We shall end in fire
by I'm Nerdy and I Know it
Summary: As a child, she watched the murder of her parents, then was captured and tortured for two years before escaping. As an adult, she remembers very little of her old life. But as far as Magma is concerned; her monsters will stay in the past, her scars are nobody's business, Gandalf is her family, and these dwarves will be the death of her. But are the monsters really in the past?
1. Chapter 1 -Late for the party

Ok guys, so this is my first fic, and for those of you who have read this before, you may notice a few changes. I recently received a PM which pointed out some things I hadn't noticed (I face-palmed a lot as I read it) and after that I went through all the chapters when I realised...a major part of my plot had not been properly exhibited in the first chapter! Guess I was so excited I just glossed over it! So I re-read it and thought "You know what? I can make this miles better!" So I gave it a go and I think this has come out much better! I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Middle-Earth and all its characters belong to Sir Tolkein (With the exception of some of Peter Jacksons additions) I do not own the universe or the story, but the main OC, any furture OCs and the altered plot line involving my OC/s are mine.

* * *

Chapter 1 - Late for the Party

* * *

Childhood. Such a funny word.

It seems to imply that, as children, we are hooded by our own youth, blanketed by it. As though being a child is protection in just _being_ so.

Everything to do with children has this air of innocence, sometimes condescendingly so. Our television shows are bright and airy, our books are simple, our toys are soft.

I suppose that's what makes the bad things that happen to children, even more horrifying when they happen.

Take, for example, children's music. When a bad thing happens, you expect silence. Or screaming. You expect a noise that sends a shiver down your spine, that raises the hair on your arms and gives you goosebumps. The sounds that freeze you in place, that make you too afraid to turn to look over your shoulder, to take that next step towards the indefinable _something._ You expect sounds that _are_ horrifying.

You do not expect a nursery rhyme.

The poor child in question, is a girl. The girl shudders in the dark, afraid. Oh, so afraid. Eight years is too young, too young to discover that the monsters don't really hide under the bed, but she can't think of that, not right now. Not when she can see her daddy laying just out of reach, so still. Too still.

Her bedroom is, clearly, a child's bedroom. The wall paper is pale and covered in roses, the shelves have an array of the soft toys and small books mentioned before. It had not long ago been her birthday, and she'd been gifted a musical CD player, bright pink in colour. It once matched her floor.

But now her floor is a shade of purple-black that shines in the moonlight streaming through her window. The CD player sits on the floor, and cheerful music pours out from its speakers at the same high volume the girl had been playing it at earlier in the day. The music is not tinny, or distorted, as the player itself remains unharmed, the blinking orange light glowing and fading rhythmically.

 _Ring a-ring o' roses..._

Sings the cheerful, melodic voice of some unknown young woman.

The child holds her Flopsy-bunny harder against her mouth to hold in her whimper.

Her daddy once told her she needn't worry about the monsters who hid under her bed, he'd always scare them away for her. But he couldn't scare away these monsters, and now it was her hiding under the bed.

Tears stream hot and sticky down her face, as the bed springs bounce and scream above her head, protesting the harsh weight and movement put upon them.

 _A pocket full of posies..._

Her mother screams too, protesting in wordless agony as the monster rams into her again and again.

 _A-tishoo..._

Still the girl hides under the bed, her knuckles turning white as the grip Flopsy-bunny, not a sound escaping her. Even when the monster finishes, even when a knife slices through flesh as he slits her mothers throat. Even when the blood drips down from the edges of the matress to collect in a puddle so close to her face.

 _A-tishoo_...

The a hand reaches under the bed and grasps her ankle, his fingers scraping and catching on her skin like claws, clutching tightly, no hope of escape. Flopsy-bunny falls from her fingers as she sucks in her first full, panicked breath.

 _We all..._

She screams and screams.

"Mummy! Daddy!"

 _Fall..._

Nothing.

 _Down..._

* * *

Sometimes it's easier to describe a horrendous thing, by simply stating it. Listing it. Be blunt and say the facts, and this horrifying, terrible thing almost seems...less so. Or at least, that's what we like to imagine.

Take this, for example.

The room was cold.

Simple enough, yes? But that small, insignificant sentence holds so much more. The horrors behind the simplicity of a cold room. If it were only that simple, you could put on a coat, or a blanket.

She couldn't.

She'd been there for hours, for days, for weeks. Her Flopsy-bunny was gone, and nothing could give her the bravery, the strength, she needed. And so she let the sobs and whimpers shudder through her small body unhindered. The Monster had left her pyjama bottoms on, but her shirt had been torn from her back as he'd tied her to the wall and left her with his men.

Every gust that travelled through the room caressed its way across her bare flesh, her knees had long ago turned numb where they knelt, pressed harshly against the hard floor. Everything was pale and grey, even her skin seemed to turn to the same colour as the walls. Whenever she dared to look up, The Monsters men stared at her with their dead, grey eyes.

He'd told her he'd be back soon, when he'd left. But that had been so long ago now.

She hoped he'd never come back.

So, you see, the room was so much more than "cold".

* * *

She screamed.

An agony she'd never before dreamt of even in her most awful nightmares seared through both her body and her mind. The hot metal was being pushed against her back _so hard_. Even then, it wasn't even the point of contact that hurt the most. No, that was more the feeling of a painful pressure as they applied the metal brand between her shoulders. The truly awful pain seemed to move through her veins, to travel across her skin from the point of contact until it consumed her.

But the smell was so much worse.

It was thick, acrid, and achingly sweet as it swirled though the air and forced it way though her nose. She swallowed that smell, every particle of that awful smoke clawed its way into her throat, sticking to her mouth. Her tongue seemed to fuse to the roof of her mouth as she gagged and cried, pulling against her captors to no avail.

In the back of her mind she remembered a time when her teacher told her about Volcanoes, how they contained the hottest thing on earth. That's what this felt like, it felt like being swallowed up by magma. The monster chanted words as she cried, and the sweet scent of magic mixed with the smell of her burning flesh, making her head spin and her stomach roll with nausea.

She didn't feel it when the brand was pulled away, but when the cold, chemical smelling water was thrown over her back, the pain became intolerable, and as the footsteps and the laughter faded away, she closed her eyes.

* * *

On the girls back, between her shoulder blades, were three circles. The first, largest circle, was placed between and just below her shoulder-blades, with two smaller, though identical, ones slightly lower on either side. The circles were intricate, filled with swirling patterns and harsh lines, and if you were to watch them for a short length of time, they would appear to shift and move, reforming into strange scenes and faces and creatures. Then you'd blink, and they'd just be circles again.

The only way the girl could measure the passage of time was through these circles, by twisting her head just right, she could just about see the edges of them. Where once, they'd been red, blistering and raw, they were now smooth. They were raised slightly from the rest of her body, but the colour was now a pale pink, only slightly darker than her own skin tone.

That was the only way she knew, that she'd been here a long time.

She'd been here so long, that she'd even forgotten her name.

They called her "Bitch" and "It" and The Monster would call her "Devil's Whore". She didn't know these words, but she didn't like them at all.

What she did know, was "The Routine".

We're going to make a horrific thing sound less so again, we're going to boil it down to a simple string of sentences, and it's going to _seem_ not so bad. The only problem really, is that it _is_ bad. The girl has just forgotten that there's good.

The routine begins at night, when they start with the whip. At first that's all they'd use, as though they were building up her tolerance. But then they began to get more creative. Now they only use the whip once, maybe twice, before moving onto worse things.

Perhaps, "Worse" is all you need for now. Just like "The room is cold", "The torture gets worse".

They'd always stop before dawn. Sometimes they'd throw that horrible, stinging, chemical-water over her, sometimes they wouldn't.

Once dawn came, those circles began to tingle and glow with the light of the sun, that would shine through the one small window way above her head, and her injuries would fade down into small, healed tissue that would rise only slightly from her skin.

All so they could do it again the next night without killing her.

The Monster visited her, sometimes.

And that was worse than the torture.

It might be important to note that he would always visit her in the afternoon. The light from the window would shine directly into the middle of the cold room, and The Monster would pace around the perimeter, which would be almost black as pitch with the thickness of the shadows lingering there.

And though he never laid a hand on her, he'd tell her terrible, terrible things.

"Wake up! Devil's little whore aren't ya? The little bitches daughter! She was a witch and you're the fucked up result of her relations with the devil! This is divine retribution!" his voice was rough and crumbly, like he'd smoked a pack a day for his whole life, and he'd shout with such passion that she'd shrink back from his voice alone. He'd see her tears and his voice would drop, soften, as though he were lost, "You should be thanking me...This is...this is..." but he'd never tell her, he never really told her why. I suppose that could be the very worst thing. She was never told _why_.

The Monsters men were sitting in her room today, watching a game of football on a small telly they'd brought in with them. In most scenes where something terrible is occurring, you expect silence. But it was almost as though the terrible thing wasn't really there.

The two men were sat, on a rugged though well stuffed sofa. A bag of popcorn and a bag of Wotsits propped between their legs as they leant forward, elbows on knees, staring at the small, flickering screen.

The tinny voice of the male commentator blared out alongside the fans cheers, and every now and again the pair would also suddenly jump, shouting in glee or disappointment. The evidence lay at their feet, where a collection of popcorn and cheesy crisps lay.

The scene would be almost normal.

If you didn't look just over their shoulders, focus behind the small TV, to see a small, golden haired girl, chained to the wall by her wrists.

She simply stared at her chains, not moving. A few stray pieces of popcorn or Wotsit had also made their way towards her during the ad breaks, when the two men became bored and attempted to get a reaction from her by throwing food. None was forthcoming.

But right now there was something, something she desperately needed to know.

"How...long" she choked out, just loud enough to be heard over the rapid voice of the television.

"What'd you say, bitch?" called one man, his eyes not leaving the screen.

"How long have I been here?" she coughed out.

The two men looked at each other and laughed, jolting the pack of Wotsits to the floor again.

Bending down to collect the bag, the first speaker said, "Oh, just two years is all."

Two years. She was ten.

"And there's plenty more to go!" said the second, walking over to kick her in the chest, before rushing back to the sofa, yelling in glee at a victory on the screen.

She grunted, she barely felt pain any more. But she was quick, she was quiet, and she was clever. She'd been listening, and she had that strong childish confidence that she could do magic. She did small things often, like now, when she sent her awareness down and… _there_. She had a cracked rib from that kick.

But the sun was out and that made her strong; she pulled the light through the circled runes on her back, and directed it through her body like blood through a vein and sent it to her rib. Healing it as though it had never happened.

But she was still too small, too little. She still needed her Mummy and Daddy to come and rescue her.

But they never did. The were never coming.

So, small and ten, she rescued herself.

* * *

Gandalf found her. He'd been travelling towards the Shire for one of his brief visits, he was quite looking forward to the firework display he had planned for them, when he saw a bright flash of light in the distance, quickly followed by the smell of a forest burning.

He'd prepared himself for any manner of foe to be revealed in the charred, ashy centre of the burnt forest, but nothing had prepared him for the sight of a small girl, her flaming red hair laying in a dirty cap against her head, naked but for the scars on her back and the dirt on her face.

He knelt down in front of her, and she looked blankly at him, no fear, but no acceptance either.

"Oh, my dear girl," he murmured, "What happened to you then, hm?" she tilted her head at the sound of his soft rumbling voice, pausing, weighing him in before responding flatly, "Many things."

He hummed again, looking away into the distance, before nodding to himself and standing fully again, reaching his hand down to her.

"I suppose then, I should be taking you with me." She looked at his hand, then back to him.

Gandalf smiled softly at the child's hesitancy, "Come now, what's your name?"

Gold eyes met grey and the girl also offered up a small smile, "Magma," She said softly, sliding her small hand into his own large one, "I'm Magma."

* * *

It had been ten years since the day Gandalf had found her, he'd taken her in, taught her all he could of how to harness the energy of the sunlight that flowed through her, and, despite her quirks, saw her as a daughter.

One quirk he could never quite get over, however, was her tendency to walk around, in the woods of her home, naked.

He'd broken her of the habit of walking around in the nude when they first travelled together, but even then, he'd sometimes catch her walking around with very little, if indeed any, clothing on.

Once Magma turned 18, he'd allowed her the use of a small cottage in a hidden wood, where she could do as she pleased whilst he wandered.

Magmas' lips quirked up at the thought of the wizard, and she couldn't help but wonder what he'd been up to since she'd seen him last year. He'd arrived at her cottage with a bundle of finely made travel clothing in her favourite colours, and two silver knives which came with a belt to lay across her hips, as a present for her twentieth birthday. Though she'd never used a knife in real combat before, they were undoubtedly beautiful, and she was very grateful.

She was bathing in the sun, stretched out across a flattened section of grass in her garden, enjoying the tingles that ran through the runes on her back whilst the breeze ghosted over her bare skin.

Small droplets of water balanced gently on her skin, and with each breath she took, a few would tremble and fall, running down her body to land in the grass below. It was an interesting effect, as some of the scars from her childhood had healed better than others, and the few that were raised caught the water, giving them an odd sheen in the sunlight.

From a distance, the now grown woman bared little resemblance to that frightened girl. Her hair had grown and became slightly lighter, flaring out around her hips in thick golden curls. She'd gained weight and muscle from all the rich food Gandalf had provided, her body curvaceous yet small and muscular, giving her a sleek appearance. Her skin was pale and appeared almost blemish free.

Until you got closer.

Up close, you could easily see three scars that were the same colour as the rest of her, but were slightly raised. Each was a result from her childhood, times when the injury had been left too long before the sun rose and could therefore not be healed perfectly.

On even closer inspection, you could even see a few spots where the skin seemed to change colour, some areas paler or pinker than the rest. These were simply caused by serious, or large, injuries, some of which had occurred during her time with Gandalf.

It would not be until she rolled onto her front that your breath would catch in your throat. Her back was a map of lines and patches. Thin and small, long and short, raised and flat, her back was a tapestry of torture. Though nothing quite stood out like those three circles branded into her shoulders.

She'd never been disgusted of them, nor afraid of them. They were a part of her. And so she sighed the happy, carefree sigh of someone who truly holds not a care in the world.

Balls of glowing light floated in the small glade around her, weaving in and out of the tall foxgloves, fragrant lavender bushes, and thick grasses. These were of no concern, for she had created them herself.

The very same globes of light where also floating lazily around her cottage. After all, who needs guard dogs?

Suddenly, one of the globes shot towards her, vibrating and buzzing manically above her face. She frowned, sitting up to catch the ball in her hand, peering into its glowing depths to see what had triggered the alarm.

The frown was quickly replaced by a smile, as she leapt up to run towards her cottage, agile legs carrying her over plant, rock, and root with practised ease.

When she arrived at her door, she allowed all but two of her globes to fade, before creating a thin golden dress to cover herself, she knew how strict her visitor was about her state clothing, before entering.

Gandalf sat in the largest chair in the cottage, which had pride of place beside the fire. Magma had built it for him herself with her light, after he had complained that all her chairs were far too small; crafting a magnificent crystal chair streaked through with golden colours, depicting deeds of heroes fighting dragons, of fireworks over fields, and a variety of animals chasing in a never ending game. Gandalf was very proud to call it his.

He sat slightly hunched over, taking pulls from his pipe and looking deeply into her fire.

"Gandalf!" She cried happily.

"Magma my dear!" the old wizard smiled in response, opening his arms to receive her joyful embrace.

"It's been so long!" she sighed, as she sat into her small wooden chair opposite his own, pulling her legs up to rest her chin on her knees, "What brings you?"

The grey wizard looked at the sun witch, eyes sparkling.

"How would you like to go on an adventure?"

* * *

Magma had begun to seriously question her sanity.

Why, in the name of Light had she agreed to this?

"Oh yes Gandalf," she muttered to herself, "why not? Let's just hop on over to collect a group of Dwarves. Oh! And let's not forget the Hobbit too! Then just skip our way to a perilous mountain, and finally jump straight into the maw of a fire breathing dragon! Yes, a fine adventure that'll be!"

She was wet, she was muddy, and she doubted she ever worn so many articles of clothing in her life. A thin green undershirt, covered by a slightly thicker, darker green shirt, well those alone were making her feel uncomfortable. But then she had to add the dark gold under bust corset, thick green leggings, dark brown boots with fur lining, and a deep green and gold cloak spread over her shoulders. Overall, she felt incredibly unnatural. Rolling her aching shoulders with a frustrated huff, she flicked her large hood up over her face in annoyance, glaring at the gravelly ground beneath her feet, kicking at a few loose stones before raising her head again.

"Where the hell am I anyway?" she sighed for perhaps the fiftieth time since travelling from her nice little cottage. The perks of having a secret magic cottage, she found, was that whenever she left the borders of the woods surrounding it, she was always teleported to somewhere in Middle-Earth that was often very close to the area she needed to be. And then, all she had to do would be to walk into a nearby woods thinking of home, and she'd be there.

In this instance, she'd been transported just outside of Bree, and so had spent the past two days walking towards Hobbiton. Having passed the sign some time ago, she was left wandering around the small area, looking at each door she passed, hoping it would be the one she was looking for. Night had fallen near two hours ago and she was still lost.

Grumbling to herself about the nuisance caused by a certain wizard, and what was it with men and directions anyway, Magma almost missed a slight glow coming from the door of a rather large hobbit hole she'd already passed three times previously.

Upon closer inspection she realised that it was the very sigil Gandalf had described to her, but once she looked closer, she realised that she should've noticed this place earlier. It was the only home with the lights still on at this time of night! And she could distinctly hear the rumble of a large group of voices even before she reached the lovely gate leading to the hobbit hole.

Huffing a very world weary sigh, she clambered towards the path and knocked four times upon the door, hoping she would be heard through the chatter.

The house quite suddenly went silent.

She heard slight muttering through the wood of the door.

"Who's that?"

"Isn't this everyone?"

"Are we under attack?"

"Who knows we're here?"

"Don't open the door!"

That last voice was deep and strong, ringing with power, cutting through the worry and panic of the others.

She sighed once again, and leaning forward, raised her voice,

"I can hear you in there!"

Silence.

"Gandalf! Open the bloody door, I'm freezing!"

That same deep voice sounded again.

"You knew of another arrival?"

"Bilbo, would you mind answering the door? I believe you have another guest."

She could hear the shuffling of feet, before the door opened a crack, allowing warm light to spill out around her feet.

A hobbit stood there, looking weary and very much agitated.

Magma inclined her head slightly, "Magma, master Baggins, and a pleasure to meet you. May I come in?"

The hobbit blinked once, twice. A third time.

"Master Baggins?"

"Oh, oh!" he spluttered, "Of course! Of course! Do come in," he stepped aside and then looked to his ceiling, "after all, everyone else has." He sighed.

She couldn't help but be sorry for the poor fellow, "Well, I am very sorry to be adding to your burden, if there's anything I can do to help this evening, please let me know."

He looked up at her in shock.

She smiled down at him, he only came to her shoulder in height, and then looked about the small hobbit hole, the first she'd ever been in.

"Oh, Master Baggins," she breathed, "your home is beautiful." And it truly was, despite the dirt tracked over the shiny wooden floors, no doubt by the dwarves, and the weapons leant up against the otherwise homely wall decorations, again, a dwarven feature, this was the loveliest little house she'd ever entered.

She turned again to her host to see he was blushing, and he quickly looked away and cleared his throat at her gaze.

"Well, um, well yes, I mean thank you. It would have been much nicer without the dwarves here you see." He said, his voice hardening slightly at the end.

"Oh?" said Magma, raising her eyebrows.

"Oh yes! I'd just had this floor polished, and just look at what they've done to my mothers' glory box." He said impassioned, with a touch of woe to his features as he pointed out the box in question, clearly antique, sporting some interesting mud clumps as decoration.

"Not that I don't like company! No, I like hosting people for tea as much as the next Hobbit, but _really_!" he huffed

"Well," She said, reaching down to gently squeeze his shoulder, "that's nothing a strong rag, some soap water, and little help can't fix. What do you say? Once I've met the company, I'll come and help you clean up."

She hung her cloak up with the various other cloaks beside the door, and headed towards the still silent room where, no doubt, her soon to be companions were waiting.

* * *

Let me know what you thought of my altered beginning! Much love xx


	2. Chapter 2 - Breakfast

Ok so here's Chapter two! I'm really getting into this! I'm hoping future chapters will be longer, but we're still at the beginning. This fic is rated M for violence and for romantic proceedings in the future. And I'm talking "Gonna take ages to get there" future. Also, this is kind of a mashup between book universe and movie universe, and as you'll see, some characters will be a mish-mash of book universe, movie universe, and my own interpretation and may be a little OOC as a result. But here we are, enjoy!

 **Disclaimer** _: Middle Earth and all its characters belong to Sir Tolkein (With the exception of some of Peter Jacksons additions) I do not own the universe or the story, but the Main OC and any future OCs are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 2 - Breakfast**

* * *

"Oh, no, no, no! Really there's no need." Claimed the hobbit. She was really beginning to like him; polite to a fault.

She paused in the room; like the hallway, it was decorated in dark polished woods and grey stone, with deep shadows thrown about the corners and bends of the room; due to the fire place set into the wall in which a deep yellow fire blazed. But most of all, the shadows thickened in the corners of the room furthest from the fire, giving the room a more crowded appearance, which was only intensified as, from the shadows, what appeared to be a small army of dwarves appeared, having assembled within the poor hobbits home. She took in each face slowly, analysing their looks of distrust and shock, even some outright hostility within their glaring faces, which had only been made darker by the flickering fire light.

She locked eyes with a tall dwarf at the head of the longest table, standing proudly amidst the scattered remains of what seemed to have been a rushed dinner, the raven hair flowing over his shoulders just streaked with grey, and eyes like blue chips of ice as he regarded her coldly.

Magma held his cold blue gaze with her fiery gold one, before moving to the familiar grey of her friend and guardian, who dropped a sly wink in her direction.

She curled her lips up in a cheeky smirk, before turning back to her host.

"Nonsense Master Baggins!" at this he held up a hand.

"I insist you call me Bilbo." He said, a small smile at his lips.

"Well then Bilbo," Magma laughed lightly, "I insist you let me help you clean your hall, see it as a thank you for having me." Magma cocked her head to the side, still smiling.

He huffed, throwing his hands in the air.

"Oh fine! But let me get you something to eat." He called over his shoulder as he pushed and squeezed his way towards his kitchen.

Magma giggled again, before calling over to her old friend.

"Oh Gandalf, are all hobbits so hospitable!"

He simply puffed smoke from his pipe and looked her way with a mischievous glint in his eye, before beckoning her to sit in a small place beside him.

She looked around the table again at the silent dwarves, unmoving, and each vibrating with the need to protest at her presence. She sighed, placed her foot in a small space between two dwarves; a heavy set bald dwarf and a smaller white haired fellow, and launched herself across the table to land in the spot next to Gandalf, who chuckled at her antics.

"Gandalf," said the blue eyed dwarf with whom she'd had the staring contest with, "Just who, exactly, is this?"

Magma raised one eyebrow in his direction before turning to lay her gaze at her guardian, who sat beside her puffing away at his pipe, the picture of innocence.

"Gandalf." The dwarf all but growled.

"Now, now," the wizard sighed slowly, exhaling a plume of sweet smelling smoke, "Magma here will be joining us."

There was a beat of silence. A second. And then all hell broke loose.

* * *

Magma simply took Gandalf's approach to squabbling, another skill she'd picked up over the years, which was to sit back out of the way until somebody else took care of it. Wizards, and other magic users, had much better things to waste their energy on.

She flicked her eyes back up to Gandalf, judging his reaction. He was calmly cleaning his pipe, and was staring intently at the blue eyed dwarf, who in turn, she realised, was staring rather intently at her.

Was this her problem?

She sighed, it probably was.

Standing up, she felt the runes on her back tingle as she focused her energy into her palms, and then, slamming them on the table, released it in one glorious rush. Bright, white light spread from her hands and rushed through the room, creating a strong gust of air, pushing each dwarf back into their seat and whipping their hair around them. She stood, with her hands still pressed against the table, and slowly met the shocked eyes of each dwarf.

"I was brought here," she began softly, "with the understanding that a quest of sorts was to take place. A quest where certain skills would be required." She began raising her voice, so that its harsh anger could be clearly heard, "a quest amongst brave, loyal dwarven folk. _Not_ a bunch of squabbling children, who sulk at the first sight of something not quite going their way. You did not ask for me, I understand that. But you did ask for Gandalf, and I go, where he sends me. If you are going to continue with this childish behaviour, I assure you, this will be a _very long trip_."

It had been a while since her temper had gotten the better of her, which she knew it had by the sight of her still glowing palms, and, she had no doubt, that her eyes would be glowing like molten gold. She took a deep breath in through her nose and straightened, sending her light back to her runes.

"So," she smiled sweetly, all trace of her previous anger gone, "why don't we all just try to get along?"

It was at this moment of tense, shocked silence that Bilbo stumbled back in, holding a plate of food and a cup. He took one look around his topsy-turvy living room, shrugged, placed the food in front of Magma, and sat down in his chair by the fire, hoping to avoid the whole situation.

* * *

Magma happily dug into her plate of meats, vegetables and cheeses, but decided to forgo the small glass of wine Bilbo had provided, pushing the wooden cup slightly to the side in indication for Gandalf to take it.

"Well gentlemen, now you can see my companion here is able to look after herself," Began Gandalf cheerily, pausing to take a sip of the sweet wine from the, in his opinion, ridiculously small cup, "I suppose introductions are in order!"

Magma sighed, looking at the large group before her, she'd never remember all these names.

"Gentlemen, _this_ is Magma, my ward..." at that, an elderly dwarf exclaimed loudly, "Your what?" aiming an ear trumpet in Gandalf's direction.

"My _ward_ , Master Oin. I raised her from a young age and she has been my companion for most of her life." His voice softened fondly as he stroked her hair, which she had kept bound back in a bun at the nape of her neck.

She'd quizzed Gandalf about Dwarven culture when he'd proposed the adventure, having met very few dwarves before, and their feelings towards hair had caught her attention. She'd been immediately afraid that her long fiery locks would cause offence with their wild curls, and had decided to keep it all bound back. Looking around, she could now see that this was a good idea. Each dwarf had his hair in a variety of braids and intricate plaits, though some were hidden beneath their long tresses in simpler designs. However, she was intrigued by a golden haired dwarf who'd added braids to his moustache, which dangled on either side of his mouth, as well as a tremendously large dwarf, who appeared to have constructed a rope of his own bright hair to hang about his neck and rest against his large belly.

"And _this_ ," he motioned with an arm, sweeping around the table, "is the company of Thorin Oakenshield!"

"Here we have; Bifur, Bofur, Bombur," the last being the large dwarf who'd constructed his rope like beard, "Dori, Nori, Ori, Gloin, Oin, Balin, Dwalin, Fili, Kili, and the Leader of our company, Thorin." He said, pointing to the blue eyed dwarf who'd been scrutinising her so closely.

"And what _exactly_ ," began Thorin slowly, "Is she?"

At this, Magmas' spine went up.

" _Excuse me?_ "

"Now, now, Magma." Said Gandalf soothingly, "Magma here is a girl, of the race of Man."

Thirteen blank stares met this statement.

"However, she has a very strong gift for magic, most especially the magic one can gain from light."

"A witch then." Murmured Thorin, who turned away, dismissing her.

"I am not a witch!" thundered Magma.

Thorin's attention snapped back to her.

"You are a woman who uses magic. That makes you a witch." He said deeply and slowly. Magma knew when she was being baited, but the only way to hide her fear was to cover it with anger.

" _Witches_ place curses and use half assed spells, _witches_ sell love potions and good luck charms. But most of all, Master Oakenshield, _witches are often burnt at stakes_." She gave him a very hard, pointed look.

"So, I'd appreciate it if you do not call me _witch_. I'm a magic user, nothing more."

He simply nodded at her.

"Bring her a contract, then we rest for the night, we've a long journey ahead."

* * *

Whilst the dwarves grunted and grumbled in their sleep, Magma had struggled to make herself comfortable. However, once the snoring started she huffed and gave up completely.

And that is why she was sitting, in the middle of the night, scrubbing at Bilbo's mothers' glory box with a rag, a bucket of lightly steaming, though murky, soapy water besides her. She had, after all, promised to help clean up, but once she'd been informed of the poor hobbits previous talk with the dwarves prior to her arrival, which had included a fainting spell on his part, she was of course understanding when he quickly turned in for the evening without cleaning. And as a result, had taken it upon herself to at least make his life a little easier by cleaning for him.

Besides, she thought wryly, she'd be damned if anyone would call her a bad house guest on account of the messiness of dwarves.

And it was as she was scrubbing that she heard a soft murmuring between two deep voices from Bilbo's pantry, and so she crept closer to hear better what was being said between her mentor, and who she assumed would be her newly acquired leader.

"I am still waiting for an explanation for the presence of that girl." Well, with an attitude like that, any doubts as to the speaker being Thorin were blown straight from her mind, and she set her face into a fierce frown.

From her vantage point, she could see half of their faces illuminated by the light from the dying fire, but their bodies were obscured by the furniture.

"Well," Gandalf said, sighing heavily, "She is a back-up plan of sorts. She will prove herself incredibly useful in this journey, have no doubt. You see, I had originally set out to find a hero for this journey, in order to slay the dragon, but they're all busy fighting each other in far off lands. This is why I turned to Master Baggins, and the safer option of burglary. However, should the dragon wake…" at this, Thorin scoffed.

"You believe that woman, nay, that _child_ could defeat a dragon!" and, though she was loathe to admit, Magma's jaw fell open in shocked agreement. Was Gandalf out of his _mind_?

"She could at the very least distract him, and she is more powerful than you think. Perhaps Thorin, one day you will see." At this, Gandalf's voice darkened, "Though for all our sakes, I hope not."

She could just about see Thorin giving Gandalf a very long look.

"Very well. But I say the same for her as a said for the Hobbit; she is not my responsibility, and I'll not be held accountable for her fate."

She'd heard enough, and turned back to continue her work at cleaning the box.

* * *

With the rise of the sun came the rising of thirteen well rested dwarves, who immediately set to work at sorting a grand breakfast from what was left of poor Bilbo's pantry. The hobbit in question, did not emerge from his room, and Magma felt it best to allow him his privacy.

Magma herself had not slept a wink, the conversation she'd overheard last night playing over and over again in her mind, and the hobbit hole had received the brunt of her frustrations; all traces of mud were gone, the weapons were stacked neatly in the hall way as opposed to being placed around the home where they'd been dropped, the cloaks hung upon various coat racks, the kitchen sparkled, the dishes stacked where they belonged, and any spillages of food had been carefully mopped up. However, she had drawn the line at the bathroom, refusing to even enter it.

 _God alone only knows what 13 dwarves have done to the plumbing_ , she wrinkled her nose at the thought.

She had followed the fascinatingly large dwarf, whom she believed to be named Bombur, to the kitchen in order to help with the cooking of breakfast. He'd smiled at her, clapping her heartily on the back.

"Well then, how about you see to the eggs, I'll see to the bacon and ham?" he called over his shoulder as he wobbled into the pantry.

"Oh," she exclaimed, "Bombur! Grab a few potatoes and cabbage for me would you, please?"

She'd spied a few left over vegetables from last night and planned to ensure nothing went to waste.

"Here you are lass." He hummed, before getting to work on preparing and cooking any, and most probably _all_ , meat he'd managed to get his hands on. He'd piled up thick slices of salted ham, abundant ropes of sausage, masses of bacon, and she even thought she'd spied some chicken in there too.

Meanwhile, she was cracking egg after egg into a large frying pan, leaving the cooked ones over a warm skillet on a plate so they'd not go cold, but had been seasoning them with a mix of salt and pepper, and occasionally dipped into the pool of bacon grease in Bomburs own frying pan to add some flavour to the eggs.

Alongside that, she was also mashing some potatoes, leaving them lumpy, adding seasoning, and then throwing in some cabbage and whatever other vegetable she could find nearby; a little bit of carrot, broccoli, and even a few Brussel sprouts were chopped, added, and mashed together.

"Ey lass, what're you doing there?" spoke Bombur quizzically, the cook very much interested in finding out just _what_ the strange young woman was up to now.

She turned to him and raised her eyebrows.

"Making bubble and squeak." She replied.

"Well now," he said, returning to his pan of frying meats, "I've never heard o' that. But if it's nothing but vegetables I can't say that the others will be too keen."

Magma giggled at the dwarves apparent aversion to leafy food.

"Even," she said, "if it's been fried within an inch of its life?"

Hearing this, Bombur turned back just in time to see her place a palm sized dollop of the mixture into a frying pan and press it down until it made a hissing, spitting sound.

"Well, maybe that'll do it!" He laughed, then paused to sniff the air, "Mmm that does smell good actually, peppery?" he asked, leaning over eagerly.

Magma smiled, she was beginning to like this dwarf, she enjoyed people with passion, and Bombur was definitely passionate about food. Since they'd shared the kitchen space, he'd been slowly warming up to her, happy to keep the company of someone who knew their way about a kitchen.

"You'll have to wait and see." She sang.

"If you've quite finished wasting time, hurry up! We have to get on our way."

Now that particular dwarf, she didn't like so much. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen scowling as though they were children with their hands in the biscuit tin.

Before she had time to retort, Bombur suddenly began a flurry of movements, placing items of food onto plates and into her hands;

"The plate with six, _unbroken_ , fried eggs and ham to Thorin. The plates with sausages, bacon, and eggs to Fili and Kili. And the plate with eggs, cheese, and bread to Balin!" he patted her on the shoulder and steered her from the kitchen, but Magma quickly dug in her heels and whirled away back to her spot in the kitchen, without dropping _any_ of the plates mind you, in order to deposit two small fried bubble and squeaks on each plate before whirling out of the kitchen again.

Of course, none of the bloody dwarves were sitting down. She sighed.

"Right you lot!" she bellowed, "I'm not giving any food to _anyone_ who's not sitting down in the _next twenty seconds_!"

The speed at which a dwarf would get something done when food was on the line astounded her. They'd gone from milling about, sharpening weapons and rolling up packs, to sitting rather nicely at the table with five seconds to spare.

"Right…well then, Thorin, here's yours." As she placed the plate in front of him, he raised his head accusingly.

"And what," he said, pointing to the two pieces of bubble and squeak, "is this?"

Good god, was everything going to be a fight with him?

"That," she said, whilst placing Fili and Kili's plates before them, receiving a chorus of thanks as they dug in, "is called bubble and squeak. It's mashed up vegetables that are fried, so stop complaining and eat them, it won't kill you."

His eyes narrowed at this, but she just smiled and placed Balin's plate before him, but was stopped by his gentle hand on her arm before she could turn away.

"Lass," began the old dwarf, "will I be able to eat this? My teeth and stomach aren't what they used to be. Too used to chewing tough meats you see."

"Well," she smiled, "I don't see why not. It'll help fill you up, plus it's mainly mashed potato, so it'll be soft and easy to chew. If you don't like it or it gives you trouble, I won't be offended if you don't eat it."

He smiled and released her, and the next few minutes were spent that way, running back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen, making sure each dwarf got his favourite, whilst dodging the occasional flying sausage or slice of bread as some more pesky dwarves decided to trade.

When Magma herself finally got the moment to eat, she slumped against the side in the kitchen, nibbling on a piece of bacon, happy to stand away from the group and just enjoy the sound of their chatter as they demolished their breakfasts.

The bubble and squeak, she was pleased to notice, had gone down very well.

Once she had finished eating, she piled up some rashers of bacon, a few eggs, three bubble and squeaks, some bread, some cheese, and two sausages onto a plate, and then snuck round the dwarves to knock upon Bilbo's bedroom door.

"Bilbo? I saved you some breakfast!" she called, but he didn't stir. She sighed sadly, it seemed their little burglar was not so keen on being a burglar at all.

She turned back to the kitchen, and left his plate on the side.

* * *

It was a few hours past dawn when Bilbo Baggins finally woke from a very deep, and very comfortable slumber.

He sat still, listening intently, but all he could hear was silence.

"It was a dream," he whispered, "Oh, please do let it have been a dream!"

He quickly dressed and then slowly crept from his room.

No mud on the floors.

No weapons against the furniture.

But, most importantly, no dwarves.

"Well," he said, hooking his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet, "well, then. That's it. Yes, of course, just a silly dream."

He hummed merrily to himself, but stopped quickly when he noticed the plate of breakfast food sitting all too innocently on his dining table.

He walked to it slowly, half hoping it was disappear, and half fearing it would.

Once he was sat down in the chair adjacent to the, rather delicious looking he'd have to admit, plate of food, he simply stared in shock at it for a moment. Once his wits had caught up to him, he reached out and dug in, humming in appreciation, especially when he came to a rather strange piece of food he'd not come across before, it was warm, comforting and…

"Peppery." He murmured out loud.

It wasn't until he'd finished that he saw the small note alongside the food, which had his name written in small, curly script across the centre.

He unfolded it with slight hesitancy.

 _Dear Bilbo,_

 _I tried my best to get everything cleaned up as best I can, I must however apologise for the state of the kitchen; the dwarves were in such a hurry I couldn't get very much washing up done!_

 _I did, however, manage to save you as much food as I could and put it aside for your breakfast. Gandalf mentioned hobbits have hearty appetites so I hope this was enough, as your pantry is now empty._

 _Thorin insists I add a message of his to this also;_

 _ **We found it unnecessary to disturb your rest, Master Burglar, and so we left in advance to gather supplies. If you have found the terms of the contract you were shown acceptable, meet us at the Green Dragon Inn at 11 am sharp.**_

 _I get the feeling from his tone that, should you not be there, he'll make us leave without you; so be quick Bilbo!_

 _See you soon,_

 _Magma._

 _P.s did you like the bubble and squeak?_

Bilbo sat at his table for quite some time, just gaping at the letter Magma had left.

* * *

So there we go! Reviews and such are, of course, appreciated (seriously, you should have seen my face when i got my first two reviews after only having this up a few hours!) future chapters will be containing more of the excitement found in the wonderful adventure so...stay tuned! Also, my updates are going to be kinda sporadic depending on how quickly I can get a chapter done and if I'm busy with real life etc. so the next chapter may take a while as it's gonna be longer and I have work to go to *sigh*.

Thanks to **Ten Thousand Ravens** and **Iikarian** for their reviews!

 **Ten Thousand Ravens:** I always wanted to read a fic where the girl insert was peppy and silly, there are loads of broody girls (which is great for your inner badass!) but I was curious so thought I'd make one! And yeah I did kinda make Bilbo a lil OOC, but in the books hobbits are kinda described as being really polite and hospitable to guests (He even offered the rude ol' dwarves cake when they barged in!) so I tried to think about what he'd be like to someone who was actually polite back, but we shall see how we go :)

 **Iikarian** : well wait no longer for here it is!


	3. Chapter 3 - Hold up a light, Darling

I'm going to apologise now if anything's out of order or not quite right, I keep getting book, movie, and my own style bundled up so it'll all be a bit different. Anyhow, here's chapter three! Sorry it took so long, there was work and house sitting and wow i've been kinda busy but i've made up for it with a much longer chapter than before! have fun guys! Also, there's a little bit of M rating bits in here, but don't get too excited ;)

Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all its characters belong to Sir Tolkein (With the exception of some of Peter Jacksons additions) I do not own the universe or the story, but the Main OC and any future OCs are mine.

* * *

Chapter 3 - Hold up a Light, Darling

* * *

"I said there's no time and that shall be the end of it!"

The hobbit hadn't shown up, and the dwarven king had ordered the group to move on, despite protests from Magma and Gandalf, as Magma had predicted. What she hadn't predicted, was the good grace with which each dwarf took the news, and had stared in open mouthed shock as bags of coin had flown about the group as they mounted their ponies to move on.

"No need to look so sour lass," said Dwalin, "just a little harmless betting." With this he snorted, and nudged his horse further up the group, so he could ride closer to his friend and leader.

Magma felt her eyes narrow and her mood drop further. She'd had little sleep the past night, her mind whirling with the implications of what Gandalf and Thorin had discussed. She knew Gandalf had brought her along for a reason, but she'd assumed that reason was for her to learn more of the world; or at least, that he trusted her powers enough to believe she could be of help. But to be the one to actually be expected to fight, and even slay the dragon?

Despite the bright sunlight, singing birds, and the calm breeze, Magma couldn't help but feel despondent. With their burglar gone, Magma had become strongly aware that Gandalf had big expectations of her. Screw that, she thought, he's got a suicide mission in mind for me.

But what had disturbed her the most was the implication of how powerful she was; he'd always told her that she was more powerful than she could ever imagine, but it had always been presented with a smile or a hand on the shoulder. But the way he'd said it to Thorin it made her sound…dangerous.

The dwarves rode in a collective bundle, chatting amicably amongst themselves; Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur rode nearest to her at the back of the group, mainly muttering in a thick, rough dialect she was not familiar with. Occasionally stopping to laugh. She watched them carefully beneath her eyelashes; she felt as though she'd bonded somewhat with Bombur over breakfast, but Bifur and Bofur were still somewhat unknown to her. Bofur did however, have a contagious personality, and she couldn't help the small smile that crept onto her face when he started laughing heartily, which soon caught on to his large brother. What caused her to be most wary, however, was Bifur. While his cousins laughed, he simply grunted and continued forward with a stoic single-mindedness which made her wonder what, exactly, his problem was.

That, and the fact there was an axe buried in his forehead.

She sighed, and leant forward to brush some dust off of her Buckskin coloured pony; his coat was a beautiful tea and cream colour, whilst his mane and tail were a full and deep black. She'd fallen in love with him the moment he'd butted her shoulder for attention, and had gladly paid for him despite some small protest.

* * *

As she'd approached the farmer who'd been selling the company ponies, Thorin had frowned in disapproval when he'd seen the stallion that she'd lead towards the farmer, and had been quick to intercept.

"No."

"No?" she'd squeaked, surprised.

"No. That mount is too big for you, and sure to be too expensive." He'd sniffed, looking the gorgeous animal over critically, before waving his hand back to where she'd collected him, and turned away.

The farmer meant well, but he'd only a small box like area to keep all his ponies in, and there were at least twenty squashed in to begin with. The ground had churned beneath their hooves, and the muscles on her boys legs were quivering in excitement at being removed from the confinement.

There was no way she was putting her pretty boy back in there.

She held out a handful of coins to the farmer, who'd sucked a tooth before bowing his head and accepting.

"Yer a big group, an' I don't mind forfeiting a little o' what he's worth. Lords know it's been more than made up fer." He said, gesturing to the thirteen ponies by the thirteen dwarves, not to mention the smallest pony with no rider, waiting for Bilbo.

* * *

Said pony was now trailing slowly along, a rope attaching it to her own boy.

Oin and Gloin rode just ahead of her, backs straight, not talking. They seemed to be taking this all very seriously. That, or Oin couldn't find his ear trumpet, making conversation pointless.

To the side of them rode Dori, Nori, and Ori, and they seemed to be having a hushed argument. Nori was gesturing wildly, though his voice remained hushed, and Dori would gesture back, between breaks where he would lean over to check upon Ori, and she caught them looking back at her a few times. She made sure to keep her head down and to one side, so they'd not think her rude enough to eavesdrop. Not that she was eavesdropping, after all, it's not like she could hear them…

Balin and Dwalin rode just behind Thorin, with his nephews riding on either side. Though it seemed that they were becoming bored of their position, and she noticed Fili slyly draw his pony back to allow Dwalin closer. As soon as he noticed his brothers' movements, Kili also drew back.

The brothers drew further and further back through the group until they were within the same bundle of ponies as Magma, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur.

"Hey!" cried Fili, "I feel as though we've all lost our sense of humour!"

"Hear Hear brother!" Replied Kili, "Perhaps these fine dwarves would grace us with some amusement?"

Magma's lips quirked up in the way the young dwarves were talking, putting on their "poshest" voices. But her eyes quickly widened as Bofur and Bombur pulled instruments from places on their packs that she'd never had thought could store an instrument, and quickly a tune was set up and the group of dwarves began singing. She looked around at the group openly now, enjoying the array of voices and swinging her head from one side to another in an attempt to match voice to singer.

She'd never heard dwarven singing before and was enjoying it immensely, despite many of their songs were in a language she was not familiar with. In fact, if it hadn't been for how focused she was on listening, she may never had heard a small voice over the hill calling out to them.

She pulled back on her horses' reigns and tilted her head.

"Wait!"

Was that…

"Wait for me!" it was!

She quickly turned in her saddle to shush the dwarves before they could begin their next song.

They all stopped their ponies too, and she glimpsed the startled and angry look on Thorin's face for only a moment before she turned back in the saddle, squinting in the May sunlight.

She heard hoof beats come towards her, and didn't need to look round to know that Gandalf, Thorin, and the rest of the company had lined up beside her to see what the fuss is about.

"We don't have time for your…" but Thorin was cut off by Magma flapping her hand in his direction and hissing a rough 'shh'. Had she bothered to look, she would've seen Thorin's face slacken and eyes widen in total surprise, after all, it's not every day a king, even one without a kingdom, gets shushed.

"Wait!" and this time, they all heard the puffing voice of Bilbo Baggins as he finally scaled the hill in order to come face to face with the company, waving a thick parchment above his head like a banner.

He skidded to a stop in front of Thorin, and held the contract out, bending over to catch his breath.

"I…I signed it!" He huffed.

The grin on Magmas' face threatened to split it in two. The short conversation that resulted in Bilbo being accepted into the company flew over her head as her mind again swam with thoughts.

She was so relieved he'd shown; now she didn't have to face that awful dragon. But then her face fell and reality snapped back into place. But now Bilbo has to face it, she thought, feeling positively awful. She'd been so selfish, worrying about herself when Bilbo will be in just as much danger, at least she had magic to defend herself. What did Bilbo have?

She straightened herself in the saddle, _it's all one foot in front of the other_ , she thought, _we'll worry about the dragon when we get there_.

And then all the tension she'd felt the past day popped as she heard a muffled,

"…plenty of walking holidays…" before watching as the hobbit was grasped under each arm and quickly deposited onto a pony.

It was the strangest thing, and after a sleepless night of stress, the sight sent her into peals of laughter.

Gandalf once told her that her laugh could light up the darkest of places, and, as she wiped tears from her eyes, she thought maybe he'd been right. For not only had every member, even Thorin, looked up in glad surprise at her free laugh, but she had also felt the release of a good laugh, as it chased away the lingering shadows in her mind.

* * *

Magma had initially reached over to untie Bilbo's pony from her own, but he'd sent her a look of such panic that she'd decided, with a smile, to let the rope be for now.

"Oh no, no no no! We have to go back!" Bilbo called.

"Why?"

"I've forgotten my pocket handkerchief!" Bilbo wailed.

Magma couldn't help her small giggle, which caused her to hiccup as she tried her hardest to get through a sentence.

"And why would you need one?"

Bilbo huffed in indignation, scratching his nose against his arm and holding his reigns loosely in each palm.

"Because," he said strongly, "I am allergic to horse hair!"

Magma simply shook her head.

Gandalf however, slowed his horse and handed Bilbo a wad of folded handkerchiefs; as well as Bilbo's own pipe and tobacco.

It didn't take long for the dwarves to start up their chatter again, though this time they decided to forgo the singing.

Magma was happily taking in her surroundings, enjoying how in only a few hours they'd already seen so much scenery; from the rolling green of the shire, to areas dotted with inns and taverns, and then finally, she looked up, they'd entered the wilder lands.

The trees had grown dark and dense, with bushes starting to brush against ageing roads.

"Oompf"

Her pony had suddenly started to skip and pull against the reigns, and Magma looked down in confusion. She smiled as she realised that she had a fighter on her hands, and he was eager to stretch his muscles and run ahead. She chatted to him soothingly, but he still pulled a bit at the reigns, as though begging her to let him have his fun. As he continued to pull, she released the rope attaching Bilbo's pony to her, just in case. Sending an apologetic look and murmuring reassurances that he'd be fine at the startled hobbit.

"You got your hands full there lass!" called out Bombur, smiling her way.

"Oh yes, certainly picked herself a spirited one! Don't worry, we'll do a trade if he gets too much for ya'!" called his brother cheekily.

"Spirited," she said, "I like that."

Then she smiled, as an idea began to bloom.

"Well mister Bofur, I'm sure that won't be necessary!" she replied, whilst allowing her boy to slowly gather up speed so that she was riding up alongside the brothers.

"Oh?" he said, eyebrows raising to disappear beneath his hat, "And why is that?"

She smiled cheekily in his direction, only barely holding back an excited grin, as her heart began to pound in anticipation.

"Because, Mister Bofur," and here she did grin, "I'm a bit spirited myself!"

And finally she bent low in the saddle and allowed her boy to really let loose.

He rocketed past the dwarves, passing even Thorin at the front with a hoot of pure exultation, which the buckskin beneath her responded to beautifully with a snorted whinny as he picked up the pace further.

Magma felt free, the wind on her face whipped strands of her hair loose from its bonding to fly about wildly. The dwarves behind her had gone slack jawed at the sight of the strange young woman flying past on her mount, before turning to the back of the group as Bofur and Bombur starting laughing so hard they nearly fell off their ponies.

* * *

She'd gotten quite a bit ahead of them, magma chewed her lip as she debated what to do. Both she and her pony were lightly panting from the exertion of their sudden gallop; but she couldn't bring herself to be remorseful.

She'd sent a ball of light towards the group to figure out just how far ahead of them she'd gotten in her rush and, after sensing the sun starting to go down at her back, had dismounted her own pony with a huff, flopped onto the ground with very little grace, and stripped herself of that damned corset and over shirt.

That is where the company found them a short time later. The pony happily grazing on the thick green grass, and the strange girl they'd somehow acquired lying amongst the flowers. And, they'd realised, in nought but her light green undershirt and leggings!

"What are you doing!" thundered Thorin from atop his own pony. He felt thoroughly scandalised at seeing the young lady so bare, and had instead directed his question to the haphazard bundle of outer wear lying beside her.

"I think I'm going to name him Spirit."

Thorin's eyes widened further as he heard Bombur and Bofur start laughing again, and Magma couldn't help the laughing along. She arched her back, stretching her arms above her head and pointing her toes as far as she could with a sigh, happily ruffling the flowers and weeds around her, before bouncing up and reapplying her outer clothing.

As she re-mounted Spirit, she asked,

"Where are you thinking to make camp?"

Now Thorin was looking directly at her.

"We will make camp when night falls."

"Ok, so about an hour of riding then?" she really hoped he'd not argue, firstly because she was always right about when the light would fade, and secondly, she'd not ridden in an age and her legs were killing her.

As she turned her pony, she heard the others begin riding as well, and gradually slowed her speed for she wanted to return to her place at the back. But she was stopped by a hand reaching out to grab her reigns, pulling her closer.

"I am the leader of this company, we stop when I say. Do not presume to take charge where you are not wanted." Thorins deep voice growled.

All the shadows from before rushed back to her mind, he was right, they didn't want her. Her heart thumped painfully in fear and in sadness.

"Well you're stuck with me, whether either of us like it or not. And the light will be gone in about an hour."

She pulled away, returning to her place at the back of the group. Bofur and Bombur smiled at her, and she smiled shakily in return, but she couldn't stomach a conversation right now, and so simply studied the thick hair of Spirits mane, and rode in silence.

She'd had no argument for the Dwarven king because he was right, she wasn't wanted there and, with Bilbo back, wasn't particularly useful. Perhaps, if the dragon woke, then she'd be useful, but now?

Thorin had already refused to take responsibility for her. And she'd not travelled this world enough to have people who would mourn her. She'd always felt secure in her belief that Gandalf would mourn her if something happened, avenge her perhaps…

But now…he was the one that was leading her towards doom.

* * *

The sun had set at the exact time Magma had told them it would, and so it was with much grumbling and sighing that the dwarves dismounted and began to set up camp. At first Magma had tried to help, but it became apparent very quickly that she was more of a hindrance than anything else, and so had joined Bilbo by the quickly constructed fire.

She had never felt so pathetically weak in all her life. Well, she thought, that isn't true. A shudder went through her as terrible memories surfaced from the black lagoon she kept at the back of her mind, twisting like serpents, coiling around her…

"Miss Magma, are you alright?" came a voice.

She slowly turned her head to the side, it felt as though she was surrounded by thick marsh.

"Miss Magma?" the serpents slithered back to where they'd come from, and Magma realised she'd been shivering. She also realised that time had passed, as the dwarves were now also around the fire, and the fire itself had grown larger as a pot had been added to cook supper.

She shook her head to clear away the last of the cobwebs, before smiling at Bilbo.

"Yes, Master Baggins, I am just fine."

She felt eyes on her from across the gloom, and looked up to see Gandalf gazing at her intensely as he blew smoke rings from his pipe. Carefully, so that no one else could see, Magma shook her head. This was the only way she could alert Gandalf that she was not feeling quite herself.

She looked around, wishing to anchor herself in the here and now, not dwell on things long gone and, mostly, forgotten.

Several large bundles on the floor indicated that several of the dwarves had retired for the night, seemingly Oin, Gloin, and Bifur. The others gathered round the fire chatting amicably and sipping at stew, a bowl of which was placed in Magma's hands at some point but she'd yet to have even noticed. Noticing the stew now, she took a sip and found it to be sweet and earthy, though a little too meaty for her tastes, but it helped bring her mind to the here and now, so she chugged and chewed it gratefully before cleaning it and handing it back to Bombur. She noticed Thorin sitting upon a pile of rocks, highlighted in the moonlight, keeping a watchful eye on his company. Whilst his nephews sat with Bilbo.

Suddenly, a painful shriek filled the air, but this time it was not inside Magmas head. Without thinking, she leapt up and threw out her hands, balls of pure white light bursting forth and gathering about the company, two to a man, whilst leaning back in a defensive stance, palms facing outwards, ready to direct the light wherever it needed to be to defend her companions.

"What was that?" exclaimed Bilbo. He, Fili, and Kili had not been facing Magmas direction and had yet to notice the six globes of light swirling about their heads protectively.

"Orcs." Whispered Kili.

"Orcs?" replied Bilbo, his voice barley a whisper, but Magma could hear the quiver of fear, and curled her palms into fists, causing the globes to vibrate with energy.

"Throat cutters…" said Fili calmly.

She remembered that. The slit throat. The blood.

"…strike in the wee small hours…no screams, just lots of blood…"

So much blood.

Her lights were vibrating wildly now, their light more like the fiery red of a glowing ember.

The dwarves who could see what was happening looked at her in awe and fear, but they shouldn't be, Magma wanted to protect them. She knew the pain, she knew the horror.

Thorin hadn't seen yet either, and from his moonlit perch he called down to his nephews in anger;

"You think that's funny?" he slowly rose until he was stood glaring down at them.

"You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?" his deep voice rumbled lowly in disappointed anger.

"We didn't mean anything by it…" Kili whispered in shame.

"No you didn't. You know nothing of the world." With this, the four members of the group who had yet to notice Magmas meltdown turned. And their eyes widened as they saw what was going on. When they noticed the orbs of light around them, they flinched away, and became even more tense when the globes simply followed.

"You must be very quiet right now Thorin. In fact, all of you; don't make a sound. Thorin, Fili, Kili, Bilbo, slowly walk back towards the fire." Thorins' eyes narrowed at the wizard's calm tone, but did as he bid.

The camp looked as though it was on fire, each of his men had two balls of light by their sides, each roughly the size of an apple, and Magma could see a fire of his own in his gaze as he looked at her. Her mind was a whirlwind, were they friend or foe? They had lights, she'd sent them light. They were friends. She opened her palms flat out in front of her, then quickly curled her fingers in, pulling the four men back to the fire light forcefully, sweeping them slightly off of their feet.

"We'll take watch tonight." She whispered, and the globes fled from their assigned dwarves, wizard, and hobbit, to make a ring around the camp. The lights became smaller and dimmed until they could be easily mistake for fireflies. But the light in Magmas eyes glowed like molten gold.

"You're safe, sleep."

She sat back on the log, palms on her knees, and watched the dwarves.

Fili and Kili, after sending her confused looks, went to sit by Balin. He grasped each young dwarves shoulder comfortingly.

"Don't mind him, laddie," he said, "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs."

Magma sat quietly, although the tale was sad, Balin had a voice that calmed her as he told it. Soon, she felt the burning fear and rage subside, she allowed her lights to remain where they were for tonight, but her eyes calmed back to their normal colour, and her heart rate slowed.

When Balin came to the end of his tale, she was the first to break the awed silence.

"You're all very brave." She said quietly.

The company all looked up at the same time.

"Good to see we have you back lass!" called Bofur, and she smiled shyly.

Thorin sat opposite her, the fire between, and he stared a long time at Gandalf, who'd been silent, to Magma.

"I want," he began lowly, "an explanation."

He stared hard into her eyes, and she felt her smile slip slightly.

"I don't care which one of you gives it."

Magma looked to her mentor, and felt her heart miss a beat when she found no solace in his gaze. What had happened, was he no longer her protector?

"Gandalf told you I was his ward." She began.

There was a short round of 'aye' and 'yes lass we remember'.

"To be someone's ward, you would usually need to be…an orphan, yes?" some of the companies eyes widened at this, and she couldn't help but find it morbidly funny when she realised they hadn't put two and two together.

"My parents were killed by men, men who were working with…those things." Slowly, she thought, careful, don't give away too much.

Thorin simply continued to stare.

"I used my magic to escape, and Gandalf found me. Took me in, taught me to control my magic…"

"That was controlled!" squeaked Bilbo at her side. She smiled sadly, not breaking eye contact with Thorin.

"You're not on fire, are you?"

Thorin's face grew even stonier.

"But that was the first time since that I've ever been close enough to even hear…" she shuddered. Her memories were pushed back where they belonged, she wouldn't have any more incidents like this again. She swore it.

"It frightened me. The lights," she nodded to the border she'd created, and one flew up to dance around the camp, "they'll alert me if anyone gets too close. And they are my weapons." Her voice grew in strength.

"And before you get all grumpy and say I'm too dangerous to stay, just remember that even though I was out of my mind frightened, my first instinct was to protect you all." She didn't know what she wanted, to be sent away? To stay where she wasn't wanted?

The choice was made for her, as Thorin nodded once, then turned away.

The dwarves began settling down for the night, Bofur and Bombur on one side of her, Bilbo on the other, and she realised she'd been forgiven. By them at least.

"Magma?" Bilbos little voice sounded. She hummed, indicating she was listening, though her eyes didn't open and she remained bundled in her cloak.

"I just thought of something that Thorin didn't ask and, well, if you wouldn't mind I'd like to know, you see..." she sighed, if he was going on this much then it wasn't going to be a question she liked. Her lights were showing her behind her eyes that the rest of the company were paying attention to their conversation, and even Thorin was looking at them from beneath his eyelashes.

"What is it?" she mumbled, too tired to care.

"Well, um, how old were you?" Bofur had been leaning against her slightly, so she felt when he stiffened.

Pulling the cloak under her chin to keep out the chill air, she answered and blandly as she could.

"Eight."

She heard the slight gasps from the company at this flat remark, and refused to open her eyes, only getting a brief glimpse at Thorin jerking his head up in pure shock before severing the connection which allowed her to see through her lights.

"And..." Oh by the Light, "Gandalf found you straight away?" he said, a despairing kind of hope in his voice. Though the hobbit didn't know much of the horrors in the world, he knew enough.

"No." she said simply, "He found me when I was ten." She then rolled over, signalling an end to their conversation. Surrendering to the sweet oblivion of sleep.

* * *

"…when I was ten." That small sentence seemed to be ringing in his ears, so loudly that nothing Thorin did could shake it out. Ten years old, she'd spent two years on her own. What possible horrors could one small girl from the race of man have seen in two years alone? There were so many he shuddered. He'd been wrong about her, to an extent, he allowed. He'd thought she was an innocent, excitable child, but maybe she needed that air of innocence.

He shook his head, irritated, and lay down to look up at the stars. But try as he might, he couldn't stop his gaze from wandering back to the small girl huddled between Bofur and Bilbo.

When the morning came he shuddered, sometime during the night it had begun to rain, and judging by the clouds in the sky it was going to be truly foul later. He realised that his eyes had already strayed towards their feminine companion and quickly tore them away to check upon the other members of the group. The small lights Magma had set up last night remained glowing softly, and he decided to stay within the perimeter she'd set until it was time to wake the camp.

Mahal knows what would happen if I breached it, he thought, recalling the events of the night gone. He'd not recognised her at first, thinking, foolishly, that one of the Valar had come down upon them. Though he'd not been sure whether a god would have blessed or vanquished them. But behind the fierce stance, the glowing eyes and the aura of power, he'd recognised the silly girl who'd made them breakfast only that morning.

He skirted around her border, lifting his hood to keep the rain from his eyes as he went, scanning their surroundings, though he couldn't see much at all through the foggy rain. He nearly stepped on Bifur, having not seen him bundled against the weather in layer upon layer of darkly coloured cloaks and blankets.

He decided to sit beside him, seeing as he was the only one awake.

 _How long have you been awake_? he asked in Khuzdul.

 _Few hours_ , replied Bifur.

They sat quietly for a few moments, content in each other's presence.

 _Your eyes find her much_ , said Bifur. His speech often sounds broken, the axe in his forehead had done irreparable damage; he could understand the common tongue, but could no longer speak it, and even his Khuzdul was broken at best. He felt most at ease talking to his own kind, and even then would often isolate himself to those who knew him already.

 _This bothers you?_ Replied Thorin, turning his eyes away from Magma again.

 _No. It bothers you_ , they looked at each other, before Thorin nodded and stood again. He'd not been paying attention, and swore softly under his breath when he kicked one of the balls of light with his foot.

It went whizzing off in Magmas direction, and he watched, puzzled, as it jumped and vibrated in front of her face before it managed to wake her.

He was unable to tear his eyes away as he watched her stretching, batting at the light with one hand whilst rubbing the sleep from her eyes with another. A terrific yawn stretched across her face, and the last of her blankets fell away to reveal that she had again taken off her outer wear. Thorin felt the blood rush to his face, but didn't look away, too curious as to what she would do to care. Though he couldn't help but stare at what the thin clothing had revealed, she was so petite compared to dwarven women, though she was dwarven height, standing just above his shoulder. His gaze was drawn to her breasts, the nipples pushing against the thin fabric in the cold, and he swallowed thickly and looked back to her face.

Once she realised that it was one of her lights that had woken her she blinked once. Twice. And then sprang into a crouch on the floor, her right hand held just above her head, and the many lights she'd dotted around rushed to her. They gathered about her hand, giving the impression of a torch held above her head, and she looked about the camp. He observed quietly, impressed with her stance and speed.

She was in control; shocked and alert, but no consuming panic.

He cleared his throat, and suddenly there was an orb of light mere inches from his face; it gave a silent but sudden flash and he cried out in pain; falling back into the damp earth and rubbing his hands roughly against his eyes.

"Arrgh!" at his cry all the company jumped awake, grabbing their weapons and looking for an enemy that wasn't there. Well, he thought wryly, at least now I know not to kick her perimeter.

* * *

Magma felt awful. She was so embarrassed she was sure her face would stay red forever. As soon as she heard the dwarven king cry out, she absorbed her unused lights and rushed over. She'd had to bat a concerned Oin out of the way, not to mention Dwalin who'd taken more than a bat to get him moving, in order to see his eyes.

"Damn damn damn, I am so sorry Thorin. Here let me…" she placed her hands over his red eyes and drew the light back into herself.

He sighed, though if it was relief or anger she wasn't sure, so she scampered out of the way to let his friends do their fussing.

"What was that?" rumbled Dwalin, giving her a glare that could melt skin off bone.

"I think I'm the one who'd most like to know." Thorin had sat up, his eyes slightly blood shot but no worse for wear.

"Umm…"

"Magma simply flashed a very bright light into your eyes. Except she can manipulate it into staying there, effectively immobilising an enemy by blinding them. Once she realised that she'd used it on you and not an enemy, she drew it back out." Gandalf interjected from where he stood, just to the side of the concerned group of dwarves.

"It's actually very useful, and let this be a lesson," he said grandly, though it was somewhat ruined by him waving his pipe at the group, "If she sets up a perimeter, don't step on it unannounced." He then frowned down at his pipe; it had gotten wet in the rain and was now unlikely to light.

The group of dwarves shrugged, helping Thorin to his feet, and quickly made breakfast before breaking camp. despite how calm everyone appeared, she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck raising in trepidation.

She'd been getting strange looks from Dori and Gloin the whole morning, and she finally found out why when she went to mount Spirit and the reigns were suddenly torn from her grasp.

"No. I'll not have this girl along. She's…she's dangerous."

Magma spent a few moments just wordlessly staring at Dori. Her hand hovering in the position as if she were still holding her reigns, but she let it drop to her side with a dull thud, before lifting it again to wipe the rain out of her eyes. She felt so hurt and confused, he'd seemed to make peace with her explanation last night, and her apology to Thorin this morning, though that did need a little work.

What could have changed?

"Last night was an accident Dori, I'd never…"

"No. I'm telling you I won't have it! A girl has no place…"

But it seemed as though no one would say their piece today, as Fili, whom she'd yet to talk to, stormed over and snatched the reigns from Dori to hand them back to Magma.

"Enough. My uncle has said she's coming, so she's coming." And with a final long look at Magma, Dori nodded and moved away.

She had no further time to ponder it, as everyone else had mounted their ponies and had started to move off, and so she hastily climbed upon Spirit and started him into a slow trot to catch up. Once she'd reached the back of the group, she slowed back to a walk and tried to remain content with what had happened. In fact, she thought, I'm just going to make the best of it. An idea formed in her mind, only a small one, but it may just bring her closer to the group. Though, when she looked up, she realised some of them had decided to adopt her already. Today Fili and Kili were riding to her left with Bilbo, and Bofur and Bombur were on her right with Bifur just beyond them. This caused her small smile to widen as she looked about the group from under her hood.

"Morning boys! And how are we all today?" she called.

Bofur chuckled before muttering something about being too wet for his liking, whilst the others called out equally cheerful greetings and "good mornings", though she noticed Bilbo's call seemed weak.

She turned slightly to see him, and realised he'd not a cloak on his person, and every stitch of clothing upon him was soaked through. She whipped her own cloak off and quickly placed it about the shivering hobbit, who looked up startled, as did the dwarves around her.

"What would you do a silly thing like that for?" cried Kili, who was feeling freezing as it was beneath his layers of dwarven clothing, Magma herself had already been wearing less than the others.

"All that cloak was really doing was keeping my hair dry, I don't mind a bit of rain." She winked in Kili's direction, though whether he'd seen it was up for debate through the ever thickening rain.

"Now Magma I insist you take this back," called Bilbo, though he was interrupted by a sneeze, "I'll be just fine without stealing a cloak from you!"

"To have stolen it you'd have had to have actually taken it from me Bilbo! I gave it freely, and you'd have to be a damn fine burglar to steal something that was already given to you! You'll catch your death without it, I'll be fine!" and before he could argue, he sneezed again, and she raised her eyebrows to prove her point. He huddled beneath the fabric, still warm from her body, and muttered about how it was the horse hair and he was not in any way cold but, oh, if she insisted.

Magma flung out her arms and turned her face to the sky, allowing the water to sluice off of her face and clean away the gathering dirt. Though she'd always prefer a bright sunny day where she could fill herself with light, she felt empowered by nature in all its forms.

She noticed that Bombur had manoeuvred his pony through the muck to walk closer to her, she could only tell because the splashes his pony made were often slower and heavier than the others, and opened her eyes to see what he wanted.

"So lass, we've all been curious about those, erm, 'bubbles and squeaks' you made? Where'd you learn o' them?" his face had lightened somewhat at the subject of food and she giggled slightly.

"My mother taught me." she said, smiling. Though she felt the mood around her drop when she mentioned them, and turned to see the others were now paying close attention.

"So," said Bilbo, "You remember them? Your parents I mean?"

"Yes Bilbo," she said, staring past him into the trees surrounding their waterlogged path, "I remember them. Bits and pieces anyway."

"Like the bubble and squeak?" said Bombur, trust him to turn the conversation back to food.

"Yes, I remember once a week we'd have a big fry up, and mum would mash all the left over vegetables from the past week up and put them in a frying pan so they'd not go to waste. She'd let me help, as much a help a small child could give anyway; that's how I remember how to do it." She smiled fondly at the memory, "I remember the scratched up wooden table, and books, books everywhere on cooking, and how she'd always let me choose one thing from a book, anything I wanted, and we'd all make it together. Me, mum, and Dad. It was usually cake."

"You sound like a close family." Fili said.

"I think we were. I just…" she paused.

"You just what lass?" called Bofur.

"I just wish I remembered what they looked like." She said in a small, quiet voice, before shaking her head.

"Well, it's fine, I have Gandalf." She smiled widely, she'd put the pain of her parents behind her long ago, that aching gap had been filled by the best person for the job, in her opinion.

"And that reminds me of something I should probably do." She chewed her lip a moment in thought, peering through the haze of rain to find the person she was looking for.

"I'll be right back." She called, before urging her pony faster, towards the front of the group, where she rode beside Thorin for a moment.

He turned his head to the side slightly, an indication that he knew she was there, when she'd stayed beside him in silence for some time.

"I just wanted to apologise." He turned to face her fully, his face carefully blank.

"For, you know, temporarily blinding you. And for scaring everyone that night." He continued to stare at her before nodding once.

"Apology accepted." He turned back to facing the path.

"And…" he sighed in annoyance, turning back to her. She was biting her lip in thought.

"I'd just like to know, why does Dori want me to leave?"

* * *

Thorin had sighed in annoyance when she'd begun talking again, he wanted her to just go, and had planned on, gently, advising her to, when his attention had been caught on something.

She'd pulled one corner of her plump, pink bottom lip into her mouth, and was chewing it lightly in thought. He'd noticed her do it before, had had to force his gaze away, but now, in the rain, he was captivated. The rain had wet her lip, making it appear shiny, and somehow fuller. Her small white teeth were just peeking out as she nibbled, and he couldn't help the path his thoughts turned down. His own teeth biting that plump lip, those small teeth of hers nipping at his neck, lips on lips, lips on skin…

He swallowed hard. He had enjoyed the…company of women throughout his adult life, dwarven and man race alike, but he couldn't remember the last time one had captivated him so much, where he'd followed their movements. But it was more than just hunger he felt when he watched her, sometimes he felt protective, and when she'd been sleeping he'd felt his heart beat oddly at watching her face so calm, so innocent.

But, Mahal, was she infuriating.

"…why does Dori want me to leave?" he pulled his gaze from her mouth and into her eyes. The colour of the golden coins he'd seen in his grandfather's halls, but with a warmth and life that gold could never possess. He studied them carefully, she seemed worried, hurt, confused; all very feminine emotions, and yet she couldn't see why Dori would object to feminine emotions in their group.

He heaved a heavy sigh, and turned to face ahead again, worried of her reaction.

"It is because he is worried for you." From her silence, he gathered this is not what she'd expected.

"In our culture, women are protected, cared for," he flicked his eyes her way, "He'd feel guilty if you were hurt on this journey, though you've not really spoken, he is quite a protective person and…" he struggled to find the words, "after what you revealed last night, I think he believes you need someone watching over you, to take responsibility for you." He looked at her again, and she seemed calm and thoughtful, until her lips twitched in a sad smile.

"And he knows no one here can guarantee my safety, nor be willing to be responsible for my fate, so he thinks it'd be better if I left." She replied deadpan.

Thorin felt his spine stiffen and straighten; she'd heard his talk with Gandalf. He turned to face her again, but she'd already turned away, directing her pony to the back of the group.

As she passed Dori, he saw his eyes widen at her lack of cloak, and called out to Gandalf as she passed;

"Here Mister Gandalf! Can't you do something about this deluge?"

The gathering of miserable dwarves looked up towards the wizard in hope, and even Thorin, payed attention to what the wizard would say; after all, if the rain stopped now, there was still a chance the firewood would dry out before night fall.

* * *

Magma couldn't help it, the small jab about how Thorin had already decided she was on her own in this journey was something that had been eating away at her, and after his explanation for Dori's behaviour; she just couldn't help it.

As she passed Dori on her way to the back of the company, she noticed now the way he watched her, it was very similar to the fashion he watched Ori, and his eyes had widened as they took in her thoroughly soaked clothing and hair.

He'd then called out to Gandalf, which had surprised her, though she knew from experience what Gandalf's response would be, the thought warmed her all the same.

Gandalf huffed;

"It is raining, master dwarf. And it will continue to rain until the rain is done! If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard." He said loudly and with great importance, as though that would settle the matter entirely.

Now back at her place in the group, Magma saw Bilbo's face scrunch up in thought before he called out.

"Are there any?"

"What?"

"Other wizards?"

Gandalf tilted his head in thought, which caused the rain water that had gathered atop his hat to pour down the side.

"There are five us. The greatest of our order is Saruman, The White. Then there are the two blue wizards." He paused, "Though, I've quite forgotten their names."

"Morinehtar and Romestamo." called Magma, though she knew Gandalf would forget. They were sent to the Far East to do their work, and so had very little contact with their kin. Gandalf had taken her to visit them once, when he'd first taken her in, just to make sure she knew all the wizards in case of an emergency.

"And," said Bilbo, "Who is the fifth?"

"Well, that would be Radagast, The Brown."

"Is he a great wizard or is he...more like you?"

Magma cracked up, laughing so hard she nearly fell off of Spirit.

"I think he's a very great wizard, in his own way." Said Gandalf, clearly offended, "He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forestlands to the East, and a good thing too, for always evil will look to find a foothold in this world."

The company continued to journey along in silence, their moods dampened by the weather and by the darkness in Gandalf's words.

"Though," he mused, "If you think about it, wizards aren't the only magic users. And there are certainly very powerful magic users in the world." Magma cocked her head, she'd never heard Gandalf mention other users of magic before.

"There's the Elves of course, especially the Lady Galadriel. The Necromancer of Dol Guldur, an evil being who uses witchcraft, a dark and terrible magic. Though he is a mere whisper, never leaving that abandoned post." A shiver seemed to go through the group at his words, his voice deep. He shook off the darkness that seemed to accompany the very mention of the Necromancer, and lightened his tone of voice.

"And then we have my dear Magma, though she is not, in fact, a witch nor wizard. She was given the title "Sun Witch" by Saruman, when I informed him of how her abilities are strengthened in the light, and it seemed the most fitting and appropriate, though we rarely use it."

"And," started Bilbo timidly, not wanting to insult the Grey wizard again, "Is she a great magic user?"

Magma's eyebrows raised and she laughed.

"I should hope so!" she said, "I have no other means to defend myself!"

And there the conversation trailed off, no one was in the mood to continue any way, and the day was a rather quiet affair from then on, as no one felt in the frame of mind to sing or laugh or joke when they were all so cold and wet.

* * *

So another day, another chapter, let me know what you think guys and I'll try and get the next one up as soon as possible! Tata for now and, as always, review review review! bye x


	4. Chapter 4 - Ferrets and Fools

Sorry I took so long guys! But here it is at last, Chapter 4! Enjoy! x

 _ **Disclaimer:** Middle Earth and all its characters belong to Sir Tolkein (With the exception of some of Peter Jacksons additions) I do not own the universe or the story, but the Main OC and any future OCs are mine._

* * *

Chapter 4 - Ferrets and Fools

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a blur of riding, with breaks for food and to stretch their legs; which didn't last long enough in the opinion of Magma's aching thighs, before moving on. Thorin appeared to be of the opinion that it'd be a waste of time to take long breaks while the rain lasted, and often food was just thrown about the group whenever they felt hungry.

Magma had spent most of the time turning her face to the sky; though she loved the rain, she was starting to miss the sun on her face, and had taken to watching the fat droplets running down the large leaves on the trees and bushes they passed, as well as the steady dripping off of Gandalf's hat, but would keep looking up to find a break in the clouds. She couldn't find a single bright opening through the long expanse of flat grey.

When the sky finally cleared and the rain stopped they'd all looked up in relief, but the sky had remained dark and stars had just started to glitter, so Thorin had directed the soggy group to a clearing surrounded by woodland where a decrepit house sat; the roof and part of a wall crushed, and ivy growth where nature had begun to revert the ruin back into the land.

Magma's runes tingled. Though she'd enjoyed the rain, the lack of sunlight combined with the use of her light the night before had left her feeling drained. She felt like kicking herself.

 _Big strong adventurer you are,_ she thought bitterly, _only a few days in and already tired? Get a grip._

It was true though, she desperately longed for a day of bright sunlight; she could go three or four nights without sleep, as long as the days were bright to revive her, but so far the sun had been hidden, and it had started to take its toll.

They'd sat still on their ponies for several long moments as Thorin and Gandalf investigated the old farmhouse, before Thorin called back that they'd make camp.

Magma sighed, and then groaned as her poor legs cramped and complained at the movement as she dismounted Spirit. They felt weak and wobbly, and she stumbled clumsily across the sodden grass towards Fili and Kili; who'd been gathering up the ponies, and then leant against a tree whilst she stretched her tired legs out in front of her. Sitting was out of the question for now, the ground was more like a swamp, blades of grass sticking out from shiny puddles and surrounded by watery mud, the Valar only knew how they'd sleep tonight.

She'd noticed the dwarves immediately getting to their usual tasks, some dragging over heavy logs that had somehow remained dry in the days' downpour, to use as seats; setting them in a wide circle around the kindling that Oin and Gloin were trying desperately to light, grumbling in annoyance at each other over the dampness of the wood and ground.

Despite feeling droopy with fatigue, her eyes had focused on Gandalf and Thorin, as her mentor appeared troubled. And so she sighed again, pushing away from the tree and dancing around the busy dwarves towards the pair.

"A farmer and his family used to live here." Murmured Gandalf, and Thorin looked sideways at him before noticing Magma's approach as she squelched through the muck.

She nodded her head in respect before hopping upon a piece of rock which had once been a wall, pleased to have found a dry seat and also putting her at eye level with Gandalf if he had turned to look her way, but his gaze had turned inward.

Following his lead, Magma also began to think. There'd been a strange feeling just beneath her chest since the start of this quest, and she needed to focus on it, discover what her instincts may be trying to tell her. She pushed and prodded at it with no avail, and had looked up at her mentor to voice her concerns, when the bundle in her chest _lurched_ forward with a pound to her heart. With a start, Magma realised it was anger, and she'd been angry at Gandalf for some time now.

But why? And the more she thought on it, the stronger her anger became.

He'd brought her here without telling her the danger she'd been in. He'd intrusted her life to a group of strangers. He expected her to kill a _dragon_. He'd abandoned her that night at the fire, knowing what would happen and leaving her to explain it. He'd barely spoken to her.

Perhaps the worst thing was the feeling of absolute abandonment; he'd intended her to fight a dragon and hadn't even warned her, from the moment they'd left the shire he'd begun pulling away from her. She felt her heart racing, her muscles clenching. She wanted to know _why_.

She pulled away from herself to notice that the two men had been talking.

"I told you I'll not go near that place." Said Thorin darkly.

"Why not? The Elves could help us, we could get food, rest, advice."

"I don't need their advice." he all but snarled.

She felt dark, as though the light burning inside her was a forest fire, and the smoke was clouding her mind. It whispered things to her.

 _Watch,_ it said, and _wait_ and _listen_. She'd heard it before in her life, and it was like some deep, raw instinct. Often it was useful, so she listened.

"Help?" Thorin scoffed, as she returned from her mind again, "A dragon attacks Erebor. What help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the Elves looked on and did _nothing_! You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather, who betrayed my father!"

"You are neither of them. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past!" Gandalf retorted. So was that his game? I'll give you what you need, but only if you do what I want? Was she seeing her mentor for the first time, in true light? Her eyes stung with tears that built behind them. Was she just something else he'd kept tucked away until it was the right time to use her?

"I did not know they were yours to keep." Thorin's voice was dark as he turned away. Gandalf turned in aggravation as well, but his path had been blocked by a very small woman with molten eyes.

* * *

"So," she began, leaning against the wall in a deceptively blasé manner, "who are you really hoping to send in after the dragon?" she looked up at him.

"The hobbit is more your style, very careful and sneaky. But throwing a _hero_ in, well, that seems too straight forward."

She noted that Gandalf's grip had tightened on his staff, and her heart gave another painful lurch, would he really use that on her?

"Magma, child…"

"Hm, not many people would risk a child fighting a dragon, maybe that's why no one thought of it before." She said bluntly. Gandalf's face remained blank.

She slumped against the wall, the fire quenched. The light in her eyes dimmed and she was nothing more than a small girl, frightened and hurt. A tear fell, then another.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" she sniffed, "Or where you just hoping that if you stopped talking to me I'd get the message?" she dared a glance at him, and flinched. She could see the anger in his face, even in the air around him.

He turned his back on her and walked away. He'd never, even when she was at her most infuriating teenage years, turned his back on her. She felt so empty, dismissed.

She followed slowly, taking a seat by the fire to keep out of the way.

"Everything alright?" Bilbo called to Gandalf's retreating figure, "Gandalf, where are you going?"

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense."

"And who's that?" he asked, perplexed.

"Myself, Mister Baggins! I've had enough of dwarves…and women for one day!"

As Gandalf faded into the darkness of the forest, Bilbo looked around in confusion, having not noticed the arguments that had taken place.

"Is he coming back?" none of the dwarves knew the answer, and Magma was in no mood to supply one.

"Come on Bombur," said Thorin, "We're hungry." Magma was sitting closest to Bombur, and had been watching him make the nights stew for dinner. She'd come to realise that dwarves are a race who greatly enjoyed having meat on the menu; she'd yet to eat a meal without some.

"Come on sour-puss," called a voice to her left, and she looked up to see the smiling faces of Fili and Kili; the elder held a short sword out to her, "Time you learnt something more useful than magic to defend yourself!" Magma raised her eyebrows but stood anyway, following the brothers to an area clear of dwarves and sleeping packs, where they'd apparently decided to try training her.

It wasn't too far off from the rest of the company, and she could feel their mildly interested eyes following them.

"I'll have you know magic is a very useful defensive tool," she spoke with a cheerful grandness that she didn't quite feel, but it seemed to be enough to provoke the brothers.

Fili gave a cheeky smirk, which Magma returned, before holding the shorter sword out to her.

She wrapped her hand around the handle, and flopped into a bow like position when Fili let go, sending both he and Kili into peals of laughter. She struggled to hold the sword in one hand, her arm wobbling and shoulders bent forward with the struggle.

"Alright," she said, "Stop messing around and get me a lighter sword." This only increased their laughter, as Kili managed to splutter out that that was the _lightest_ sword anyone carried.

"I am going to hit the two of you round the head with this in a minute." Grumbled Magma.

"You'd have to lift it first!" Crowed Kili. At the challenge, a glint entered Magma's eye, and she smirked.

There was a rather attractive pool of mud behind the two snorting boys, and a plan formed in her mind as they finally controlled their sniggering.

"Ok, now time to be serious," said Fili, though his eyes still crinkled around the edges with laughter, "This is important, we can't always be watching your back."

Magma allowed her eyes to widen in what would appear to be awe.

"Oh no," she said, "I couldn't possibly expect you to save the day all the time. Like you said, you need to be _watching your backs_." And at the end of this statement, she flicked her wrist, and the two ropes made of light she'd been carefully wrapping about their ankles tightened, and with a squelching _thump_ , the two dwarves landed in the big, muddy, puddle.

She heard laughter from the campfire, and turned to see most of the dwarves laughing at the state the two princes had found themselves.

"Fili! Kili!" yelled Thorin. Magma quickly waved her hand, allowing the ropes to dwindle and fade so the boys could stand up.

"Make yourselves useful, go watch the ponies." He said, and Magma handed the sword back to Fili, who whispered about 'no hard feelings' and winked at her with a smile before walking to the forest with his brother to watch the ponies as their uncle had ordered.

Magma sat back at the bonfire, but flopped to the side and rolled to watch the stars. _The trick with the rope was silly_ , she thought, _now I'm even more drained than before._ But it had been fun to have someone to laugh with.

She sighed happily, when Bilbo cleared his throat and shifted nervously.

"He's been a long time." He said, trying hard to sound nonchalant.

"Who?" asked Bofur, between spoonfuls of soup.

"Gandalf."

"He's a wizard! He does as he chooses. Here," he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then collected two bowls of soup," Do us a favor, take this to the lads."

Magma watched as the hobbit scrambled from his spot the scurried away into the woods. There was a strange, unsettled feeling in her stomach, as she stared into the forest. The darkness between the trees seemed to be swallowing the light, and swallowing everyone in there too. Her mind conjured hands in the branches, gaping mouths in the dark. She looked to the ruin of the old farmhouse and shivered; something was not right.

She stood, then paced back and forth from the farm house to the camp, before sitting again next to Thorin. She turned, intending to say something, but was distracted.

She'd noticed once before, in the moonlight, how regal Thorin Oakensheild really was. But right now, looking at him in the fire light, he was…handsome.

She became lost in watching the play of light over his cheeks and brows, how it deepened his eyes. How thick his hair was and, not for the first time, studied the small braids at his temples. And peaking from between those tresses she noticed something glinting, something shiny reflecting the firelight…

"What are you doing?" He asked gruffly, keeping his voice low so the others wouldn't hear them.

She hadn't realised she'd begun to lean forward to get a closer look. Shrugging her shoulders, she realised it'd be easier to just ask him what it was.

"I was trying to see what that shiny thing is, in your hair." She tapped the area near her ear to demonstrate, as she'd seen the various beads in his hair and didn't want him mistaking her question.

He looked at her for a long, heavy moment. His brilliant blue eyes capturing her own and holding them, and she shivered. His eyes were so strong, there seemed to be no softness about him; she'd seen the sturdy strength of his arms, and she'd be stupid to believe him weak, but even his eyes held no softness. But…

Her eyes dropped to his mouth. They were often set into stern lines, but she could just imagine they'd be velvet soft. Or would they be hard? Demanding, when they pushed against her own, would they force her compliance…

"It's an ear cuff." He replied, curtly, before turning away again.

She blushed fiercely, had he really just caught her staring at his lips?

Worse. Had she really just been _staring at his lips?_

She stood, brushing imaginary dirt from her leggings, and walked back towards the ruined house.

 _And now a crush on your leader,_ she thought, _well done._ Well, it couldn't really be a crush, as she'd only known him a few days, it was…mild interest. At least; that's what she finally decided upon, when Fili and Kili suddenly ran back into the camp shouting.

* * *

He'd spent most of the evening staring at her after she'd returned from her spat with the wizard, and to be honest, he'd been surprised she'd had that kind of fight in her; the kind of stubborn flare that could annoy a wizard at any rate.

He'd only just managed to tear his gaze away when the object of his distraction decided to relocate herself, sitting right beside him.

He'd watched from the corner of his eye as she drew in a breath and turned her body to face him, and had tensed for whatever it was she had come over to ask, or insinuate, this time, when she'd appeared to deflate and had just stared at him intently.

 _Mahal_ , he thought, _what more could this woman possibly do to irritate me._ Though he'd decided to put his faith in the wizard, he was not comfortable with having this woman in the company. He didn't want the responsibility of her death on his shoulders, nor the possibility of her being the reason that another member of the company died from looking after her. And then there was her magic. It was pretty, no doubt, and could be useful, but this slip of a child had yet to prove useful and, damn it, he wanted her gone.

He flicked his gaze to her again and was startled to see she'd leaned closer, totally lost in her exploration. He felt a strange sensation in his chest. When was the last time a woman of any race had stared at him like that? Like they were becoming lost in him? He couldn't recall a face let alone a name.

 _And when,_ came the unwanted thought, _was the last time you watched a woman the way you watch her?_ He pushed the thought down.

"What are you doing?" his voice had come out low and husky, he'd not meant for it to sound that way. It was almost… _inviting?_ No. No, he'd just been keeping it quiet, no use embarrassing her in front of the company. She looked shocked for a moment before replying.

"I was trying to see what that shiny thing is, in your hair." She tapped the area near her ear, her head tilted. It drew his eyes to the graceful curve of her smooth, pale neck. He'd fantasised about that neck once before, about nibbling his way down the creamy column, leaving light bruises with his teeth, sucking on the soft skin while she gasped…

He kept his gaze fixed upon her own, not wanting to follow the road his thoughts lead down, not this night.

 _Nor any other,_ he thought sternly, and let that displeasure shine through his gaze as it bored into her own. He wanted her to leave. Leave his thoughts, leave his side, hell, and leave the company too.

As if the fiery angel before him would make his life so easy.

But her gaze wavered and dropped, and he held in a victorious smirk. She wasn't as strong willed as he thought. But then the damned woman bit her lip again. He'd theorised that it was an unconscious movement; something she did when puzzling out a thought, but it made his trousers feel that little bit tighter every time. And as he watched, he realised she hadn't dropped her gaze away in fear, she'd become distracted. By his lips.

She was staring at his lips whilst biting her own. Was she imagining the same things he'd imagined? Their lips pressed together, moving in rhythm, tongues and teeth clashing for dominance whilst their breath mingled…

He took a deep breath and looked at her, really _looked_ at her. The faint blush to her cheeks and to the tips of her ears, her focused gaze, and the chewed upon lip, the slight furrow of her brow.

She was an innocent, he decided; uneducated in what occurs between men and women, that explained her focused, yet confused look.

He released his breath in a quiet sigh, perhaps they'll come across a village where she can be dropped off; he didn't need the distraction she unknowingly brought.

"It's an ear cuff." He replied, curtly, before turning away again; knowing that she'd take this opportunity to flee from his side.

She did exactly that, he could hear the rustle of her clothing as she stood and brushed off her clothing before moving on.

It was bad for the company to have a woman in the mix, she posed too many issues.

A large group of males, one unmarried female…anyone would think it was dishonourable to keep her with them despite many of the company having wives waiting in the Blue Mountains.

His concern was for the younger, unattached dwarves; they may see her as a distraction, and this was too important a mission for distractions.

 _The only distracted one here is you,_ whispered a voice in his head viciously.

Before he could throttle that voice into obedience, his nephews came bounding in from the forest.

"Trolls! In the forest! They took Daisy and Bungle and Myrtle and Minty!" they chorused. The camp fell silent and Thorin stood, but before a word left his mouth, Magma leapt over the fire to land in front of Fili and Kili.

Grabbing them by their collars she pulled them closer and growled loud enough for the silent company to hear.

"Where. Is. Bilbo?"

Thorin felt his face slacken, realising too late that Bilbo had been sent to give them a bowl of stew each, and they had returned with the bowls…

"He went to see if he could get them back…being our official burglar and all." Stammered Kili.

The company gathered their weapons and turned in the direction of the forest, Kili, having been released by Magma, racing ahead. Thorin saw Magma grab one of the two silver knives that hung from a belt at her hips to rest at the small of her back, but he reached out to grab her arm.

She twisted, shocked, to look his way. Truth be told, he wasn't sure why he'd grabbed her, then he realised; what use would magic be against trolls? And those two delicate little knives of hers were certainly no use.

"Pack up the camp." He muttered roughly, before pushing her arm away from him, a little too hard perhaps, and then stalked off after the rest of the company to get their so called burglar out of trouble. The hobbit and the woman; between them they would kill him, he was sure of it.

* * *

"Sit, Magma. Stay, Magma. Do as I say, Magma." Magma muttered childishly under her breath, imitating Thorin's barking orders, most recent of which being 'pack up the camp'. Well she'd pack up the camp alright.

In fact...she looked about her, she'd already finished. She flopped down onto one of the dry logs that had been arranged about the fire and sighed. They should have been back by now.

At one point she'd been sure she'd heard fighting in the distance but that had been some time ago now and they'd still not returned.

"Serve him right if he got eaten by a troll." She murmured under her breath, but immediately winced in regret; she'd not meant it.

She pushed herself to her feet in an annoyed huff, _time to go save the big strong men_ , she thought. Her lips pulled into a pleased smirk at the thought of charging in to rescue the burly group of seasoned warriors, not that she expected any gratitude for her efforts.

As the trees grew closer together, she kept her footsteps light, made easier by the dense, damp foliage. As she approached, the first thing she noticed was the smell, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust, she was no rose after travelling so long, but even the dwarves didn't smell that bad.

She was just beyond the edge of the trolls' camp, peering in as best she could, something was rotating on a spit over the fire, and she could hear Bilbo talking in his usual flustered panic to the trio of trolls.

 _What on earth…_

She picked a sturdy tree and climbed up as high as she could go, allowing her a much better view of the trolls. Peeking from between the leaves, she covered her mouth hard to stop the shocked laugh that threatened to escape, as it was a highly inappropriate thing to do in this situation, at the sight of Dwalin, Fili, Bifur, Bofur, Ori, Nori, and Dori, all tied to a rotating spit above a fire. Confused, she looked around for the rest of the group, and had to press her other hand over the first at the sight of Bombur, Thorin, Oin, Gloin, Kili, and Balin all wrapped in sacks and piled together like potatoes.

 _Not the time Magma, not the time_ , she thought as she shimmied along the branch to try and figure out a way to help, _you can tease them about it as much as you like later_.

She looked down as the dwarves all began grumbling and shouting.

"Parasites!"

"I don't have parasites! _You_ have parasites!" she couldn't help the small snort that escaped at Kili's childish complaint. A troll with one dead eye swung his head to look in her direction and she pressed herself against the branch, lying flat as she could.

"What would you have us do then?" said one troll, pushing at Bilbo, "Let 'em all go?"

"Well…"

"Well if he's wrong what should we do?" said a voice that sounded rather like one of the trolls, but, Magma stared in confusion, none of the trolls had spoken.

"No good roasting them now, it'll take all night!" said the voice again.

"Shut up Bill," said one of the trolls, "Or it _will_ take all night!"

"We could boil them." Muttered a voice that sounded very much like the troll who'd just spoken.

"We haven't any water!" called the third troll.

Magma looked towards where the voice seemed to be coming from, and noticed Gandalf standing in the shadows, using a voice trick to confuse them. She grinned, _that crafty old wizard_.

But suddenly the smallest troll moved, and the space was then showered in firelight, making Gandalf visible by his shadow stretching across the ground.

"Oi!" Shouted the troll who Magma assumed was William, pointing at Gandalf's shadow "What's that?" she had to do something, whether they were getting along at the moment or not, she wasn't going to let him be eaten by trolls.

Magma released a cloud of light orbs that floated around her; they were smaller and weaker than usual, but they'd do. She jumped from her perch to land in front of the trolls, causing them to look her way in shock and completely forget about Gandalf.

"Oi! Gravel nuts!" she called, before sending her orbs flying into the group.

They cried out in pain as they landed, as the lights were made of sunlight, and the skin they touched become stony.

"Oi Bert, she's turned my finger to stone!"

Magma breathed heavily, she'd a very little amount of light left, and the trolls had recovered fast. She turned to run back to the shadows, dawn was almost upon them and the dwarves would be fine, but something suddenly grabbed her leg and pulled her backwards; scraping her stomach and arms against the ground before lifting her to dangle upside down in the air.

"What do we do with this little one then 'ey?"

"Oh no no!" called Bilbo again suddenly, "You can't mix witch with dwarf!"

"Ere, what the flurburbur hobbit saying now?"

"Well," said Bilbo, "It'll throw the balance off won't it? Witch and dwarf? Nasty combination, it'll repeat on you for weeks!"

Magma outright chuckled this time, the creativity of Bilbo was something to behold.

"Ignore him! Remember what he said about the parasites? This little ferret is taking us for fools!"

"Ferret!" shouted Bilbo, clearly insulted.

Magma crowed in laughter, the blood was rushing to her head, and she was feeling a bit woozy. _That,_ she thought, _or I'm turning into a raving lunatic_.

Then Gandalf suddenly appeared from behind the largest rock at the top of the clearing, and bellowed;

"The dawn will take you all!"

"Who's that?"

"No idea."

"Can we eat him too?"

Magma could see the sunlight rising behind Gandalf, but the bloody rock next to him was stopping the rays from reaching the clearing.

 _We just can't catch a break here_ , she thought with a sigh.

Suddenly Gandalf slammed his staff upon the rock and it split, allowing the sunlight to filter onto the trolls, who cried out in agony as they turned to stone. The Dwarves cheered, and Magma even saw Thorin smile.

Now, it may have been the position she was in, or it may have been a trick of the light, but at the sight of Thorins' smile, her heart skipped a beat.

* * *

Each dwarf had been removed from their sacks and gathered their weapons, and yet, somehow, Magma was _still_ hanging upside down in the grasp of a troll, which is the only reason she heard the conversation that took place between Thorin and Gandalf. She'd been debating whether or not to call out and remind them that she was, in fact, still there, when she saw Thorin, still appearing very cheerful, approach Gandalf.

"Where did you go to, if I may ask?" he said to the wizard.

"To look ahead." He replied, turning to face the king. Thorin's face turned thoughtful as he asked;

"What brought you back?"

"Looking behind." They shared a tense moment, before Gandalf turned back to the nearest troll and bonked it with his staff.

"Nasty business. Still they are all in one piece." He said, indicating the rest of the company.

"No thanks to your burglar." Scoffed Thorin.

"He had the nous to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that."

" _Ahem_ " coughed Magma, drawing their attention upwards.

"So sorry to be a bother, but would someone please get me down? The blood's rushing to my head."

"Perhaps that will help you to make better decisions in the future!" snapped Gandalf, before whacking the trolls' fist, causing it to shatter.

She squeaked, and braced herself for the impact onto the ground, but she found that something far softer had captured her from her fall, and unscrewed her eyes to find herself wrapped in Thorins' arms. Her eyes widened in shock, and his own eyes mirrored the feeling, before he quickly, though gently, place her feet on the ground. He'd kept one hand on her shoulder to steady her when she stumbled, but once she stood upright, he withdrew to stand beside Gandalf again.

"Well excuse me," she replied, "for saving you from becoming troll soup! _They'd seen you._ "

Gandalfs' gaze didn't waver in the least, and so Magma shook her head sadly and left to help the others.

* * *

Thorin didn't even remember moving, one moment he was watching Gandalf break Magma free from the trolls grasp, and the next she was in his arms. He'd squeezed her small, soft body to his chest, and when those golden eyes had opened he'd nearly lost himself in them. He'd released her quickly, but she'd stumbled; he'd placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her, but he'd felt a surge of protective instinct, he wanted to pull her to his chest again. But she was no maiden in distress, and she'd immediately defended herself and her actions; now both he and Gandalf were watching her storm away towards the group.

"She's so head strong, she doesn't realise…" Gandalf muttered angrily to himself before turning back to the trolls.

"They must have come down from the Ettenmoors." Thorin frowned at this news.

"Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?" he cleared his mind of thoughts of the young woman, needing to keep his mind on what had happened here.

"Oh, not for an age. Not since a darker power ruled these lands." His voice had turned bleak, and he gazed towards the mountains nearby, frowning in thought.

"They could not have moved in daylight." He said slowly.

"There must be a cave nearby." Said Thorin, looking about in renewed interest.

Gandalf nodded, and Thorin set out to collect the company, intending to search for the cave, but noticed that one member was missing. A certain female member.

"Where's Magma?" he called.

 _Mahal,_ he thought, _what possible trouble could she have gotten herself into now?_

"I'm here!" called the girl herself, struggling under the weight of all their packs and rolls that had been left at the camp. She flung them to the ground in front of the group of shocked dwarves, and met Thorins' eyes with a shrug.

"What? Thought you'd want them?"

* * *

She honestly didn't know what to think of Thorin Oakensheild. One moment he's nice, then he's annoying, then he's a jerk, then he's attractive…

 _Oh no Magma, we're not going down that road_ , she thought with a snort.

And _now_ he was taking them to a troll hoard. Thanks, but no thanks. She'd just sit outside; trolls smell bad, troll caves smell _worse_. And so she thumped down on a rock next to Ori and rubbed at her calf where the troll had grabbed her, before laying back with a sigh to finally soak in the sun's rays. She felt her runes tingle as the sun nourished her, and the scratches on her arms and stomach faded away. Once she was healed, she set about storing as much light as she could; she didn't want another fiasco like what had just occurred with the trolls to ever happen again. She hummed in pleasure as the warmth filled her, and then tilted her head to look at the youngest Ri brother, who was scribbling away at a piece of paper in his journal. He glanced up at her, and then blushed bright red at being caught. Magma quirked a brow and smiled.

"Whatcha doing Ori?" she asked, trying to sound friendly and not nosy, though she really wanted to know just what he was doing…

"Oh, umm, drawing." He stammered, and she simply smiled.

"You." He finished lamely. Magma's smile turned into a full grin as she sat up and asked to see it, and Ori had to smile at how she sounded like an overexcited puppy begging for a treat.

"Ok, you can skim through, there's pictures of everyone in there." He said, handing over the journal.

She looked through in wonder, there were three pictures of her interspersed with pictures of the company. There were mainly pictures of his brothers sitting or standing in places she hadn't seen before. But the first drawing of her showed the night she'd lost control, the page mainly black and grey to show off the glowing lights of her eyes and the orbs throwing lights about figures who huddled around her. Her fingers hovered above it a moment.

"I look…frightening." She whispered, turning to look at the young scribe, "Do I frighten you Ori?" she asked, feeling stricken at the thought of frightening the gentlest member of the group.

"You did that night." He admitted, "But you were also magnificent to look at, like an angel of the Valar." Her eyes widened, and she allowed a small, embarrassed smile at the sincerity in his voice. The next few pages showed several of the dwarves riding their ponies, or of Bombur cooking.

The second picture of her showed her and Thorin sitting by the fire, staring into each other's eyes. He must've only just finished that one, as it had happened only that night.

"I thought it would make a lovely picture." He whispered, and Magma swung her head up, face red. Ori winked.

"I think you'd make a nice couple." Choosing to ignore _that_ comment, she turned to the last page, a rough sketch of her laying back against the rock, hair escaping its bind to float about her face, a soft smile, eyes closed, tilting her head to the sky with her arms resting behind her head.

"Wow…" she breathed, it was simple and yet, she'd never viewed herself like this before.

"Thank you. Here," he tore out the page and handed it to her, "Since you liked it so much."

"Oh Ori…I can't think of anything that I could do that'd be worth even _half_ this." She tucked it into her pocket, and the runes on her back tingled again, which made her think…

"Actually, just…wait a moment." She said, then held her arms out slightly in front of her, catching a ray of sunlight between her palms. Wiggling her fingers and moving her hands slightly, she pushed and pulled at the light…

She heard the dwarves around her gasp, but didn't pull her gaze away from what she was doing.

With a final _snap_ of magic, she was done.

And in the air between her palms, floated a crystalline pen, all the colours of the rainbow shooting through it, as she had captured a ray of sun to create it. It flared out at the end, where it could the rest comfortably in the hand, then tapered to a fine point. It could be used for writing or drawing, was delicate in appearance, but strong and sturdy for dwarven hands.

She plucked it from the air, then turned to hand it to Ori. He stared at it open mouthed, then blinked at her.

"Go on," she said quietly, "take it, it's yours. It's a thank you for the drawing." He continued to stare, looking almost frightened by this display.

"A proper scribe," she said, taking his hand, "needs a proper pen." She lay the pen in his hand, and Ori seemed to tear up a little.

"Thank you." He whispered, tucking the pen into his journal before hiding it away in his coat.

She looked up, and realised they'd had an audience.

"What?" she asked.

They didn't say anything though, just gave the two strange looks before they turned back to watch the cave. Shrugging, Magma squeezed Ori's shoulder, before standing to stretch her legs. Just as she reached the mouth of the troll cave, she tripped slightly on something poking out of the ground.

Something fuzzy and grey poked up between two roots, covered in leaves, and Magma frowned in confusion as she bent to pick it up. Pulling it out, she brushed off the dirt and stood. It was a toy rabbit. It had soggy grey fur, and only one eye looked like an eye, the other was a shiny brass button.

 _I pulled the eye off by accident,_ she thought, _daddy spent all afternoon picking out just the right button to sew on to replace it._ She frowned again, _he hated to see me cry._

She held the toy closer to her, still frowning in confusion.

"Flopsy-bunny?" she whispered. But she'd lost him, lost him when the monster came. Hadn't she?

She tucked the toy into her cloak just as the others emerged from the cave, some holding new weapons. She smiled at Gandalf, but he walked towards her right, where Bilbo stood not too far off. She shook her head, she'd stopped being angry at Gandalf, she knew his ways, but why was he acting so strangely towards her?

"I can't take this!" exclaimed Bilbo, and Magma looked over, cocking her head in confusion.

"The blade is of Elvish make, which means it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are nearby." Gandalf explained gently. Magma agreed with his decision to arm the hobbit, he'd need something to defend himself when the time came. _Though_ , she thought, _this time I'm going to keep a better eye on him_. There'd be no more losing the hobbit as far as she was concerned; once was enough.

He'd stammered about having never used a sword before, which came as no surprise, but had accepted it anyway. Magma moved away to sit back on the rock by Ori, who was showing his brothers his new pen, but she still heard the last piece of advice Gandalf imparted, and she looked up to see the wizard staring hard in her direction.

"And I hope you never have to. But if you do, remember this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one." Magma felt confused, was he trying to tell her something?

Before she could approach him to ask, Thorin burst from the boulders further up and approached the wizard hurriedly.

"Something's coming!" he barked, and suddenly they were all running.

They stopped and gathered together, weapons out. Magma grasped her two knives, holding them lightly to her sides as her eyes scanned their surroundings. The air was heavy, tense, muscles quivered and eyes flickered as they waited for their pursuer to reveal himself.

* * *

 _I know! I'm evil! But I'm sure we can all guess who it's gonna be…_

 _Also I've been dying to write that little scene between Ori and Magma for aaaages because, come on, he's too adorable for words!_

 _So I'm super sorry this took so long to get up, my life is madness and I'm hoping I'll get the next chapter done much sooner! As always – reviews are my sustenance, without them I'll get all droopy like Magma without sunlight ;) but seriously I love your feedback guys so let me know if you enjoyed it, and I'll be posting again soon! x_


	5. Chapter 5 - You spin my head right round

Wow ok so here it is at long last, chapter 5!

Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all its characters belong to Sir Tolkein (With the exception of some of Peter Jacksons additions) I do not own the universe or the story, but the Main OC and any future OCs are mine.

* * *

Chapter 5 - You spin my head right round

* * *

 _Fuckity fuck, we can't catch a break. Literally. Can't do it. When this is over, I'm never leaving the cottage again._

Beads of sweat rolled, fat and salty, down Magma's face. They came to rest on her eyelashes where she blinked them away, her breath came in soft pants as she swung her eyes wildy, attempting to calm her galloping heart as she searched for their hidden pursuer.

Panic and frustration reached a bubbling climax within her, and so she cast aside that mundane effort to focus on another. She pushed her awareness out through her light, seeing, touching, and instinctively knowing anything that passed through every pool of light in their vicinity.

The light pressed against her shoulder blades, her runes tingling as she breathed deeply, evenly. That soft pressure was irritating, like an itch just out of her reach, but it told her everything she needed to know.

That tense pressure showed her the group of nestlings gathered quietly in the tree to her right, uttering timid chirps from the safety of the woven twigs where they huddled. It showed her the fluttering leaves of the trees and bushes around her, bright flashes of dew and fat droplets of water spraying from the higher, larger leaves as the breeze stirred them. It showed her the bugs and insects, crawling and scurrying across the damp ground in search of a meal or shelter.

The level of awareness she used was strange, she could feel everything about a beast or plant as long as it was within the light shining through the trees'. She felt those insects, she sensed every leg of the long, brown centipede as it moved across the earth, it's red antenna waving wildly; and then suddenly, it disappeared, as though a door had slammed shut on the image. It had simply moved out of the light, she knew, but she felt a strange, unpleasant tug in her stomach everytime it happened.

Magma sent her awareness out as far as it could go, and her shoulder blades tingled to the point of pain when she realised something; their pursuer was passing in and out of light and shadow so fast that even she could not get an image of what it was.

Try as she might, she could sense nothing. Just whispers of movement, a large something travelling quickly towards them.

 _Gods and Godess's damnit, she thought, this is bullshit._

She pulled her awareness back to herself, her energy too precious to waste, and discovered her hands slick with sweat where they gripped too hard on her knives, her fingers cramping slightly from the pressure. Carefully, she flexed her fingers, easing them back into a lighter grip, feeling more confident as the feeling returned to them and the soft, molded leather rested comfortably in her hands once more. She may not be a warrior, and magic was her best defence, her only defence really, but she'd had some simple training, and slashing and stabbing wasn't that hard of a concept.

The dwarves were equally tense, holding swords, axe and...was Bombur brandishing a ladle? Either way, they were all alert, looking in every direction with baited breath...

"Theives!" bellowed a voice, high with panic.

Magma straightened in shock, and looked towards her mentor with raised eyebrows, his expression matched her own. Surely it wasn't...

"Fire! Murder!" came the voice again, though this time it heralded the appearance of the awaited pursuer.

He looked quite a sight. An elderly man, dressed in brown coloured cloaks, wearing a strange hat. His wide eyes and large nose twitching in stress as he looked about him at the collection of rag tag dwarves, hobbit, wizard, and girl.

Perhaps, Magma mused, the dwarves would have been less shell-shocked, had he not arrived aboard a sled pulled by no less than eleven giant rabbits. Rolling her eyes, she slid her knives away and gave a wry smile to the gentleman in the sled.

"Radagast!" exclaimed Gandalf, in equal mixtures of horrified shock and fond surprise. When only Magma smiled and relaxed, stepping down to greet the Brown wizard, Gandalf huffed and tutted.

"It's Radagast the Brown." he reiterated, sliding away his sword with a heavy sigh. With introductions out of the way, as Gandalf would not waste time introducing the dwarves, he made his own way to the Brown wizard.

Magma had leapt into Radagast's arms with an ease that came from years of hugging the seemingly frail wizard. Though if she had bothered to look, she'd have noticed the dwarves flinch at her enthusiasm, a few even stepped forward as if they feared the wizard would harm her.

"Ah! Magma!" he said fondly, wrapping her up in his arms and pressing her head into his shoulder, before pushing her away to get a better look at her.

"My dear, you look dreadful!" they both laughed lightly at his comment; it was one he made often when she'd not seen him in a while, he would always joke that she looked her best when she stayed with him. Which, of course, meant that he'd practically force feed her all of her favourite foods so she'd put on weight, like she was some skinny fledgeling he'd found on the forest floor.

Magma rolled her eyes and retorted;

"And you," here, she pointed at his cheek, "need to wash your face!"

Though they laughed again at that, Magma couldn't hide a small grimace at the sight of some bird poo matted into Radagast's hair and drying on the side of his face.

She turned at the sound of grumbling dwarves, and watched in amusement as the group began putting away their weapons. Her amusement grew as she saw many of them flick their eyes between Gandalf and Radagast, clearly not liking the idea of yet another meddlesome wizard in their presence.

Magma turned and stood between Bofur and Bilbo, leaning against a small tree whilst Bilbo perched on a rock to her right, Bofur spinning his pick-axe to her left.

"What on earth are you doing here?" asked Gandalf.

"I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong."

"Yes?" Gandalfs tone had become cautious, and Magma frowned as she watched the the conversation.

Radagast leant forward, as if to speak, but stopped.

"Just give me a minute," he sighed, "Um…Oh! I had a thought and now I've lost it. It was…it was was right there, on the tip of my tongue!" the distressed wizard began gesticulating wildly with his hands.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, sticking his tongue out slightly, and talking around it, "It's not a thought at all, it's a silly old..." Gandalf flicked his sleeve out of the way and delicately placed his fingers inside Radagasts mouth, where he removed a wiggling creature, "Stick insect!"

Magma turned up her nose, and the dwarves who'd seen the exchange screwed up their faces in disgust.

Gandalf merely nodded placatingly, placing his arm around Radagasts shoulder and leading him away from the group.

"That's the other wizard Gandalf mentioned? The "Great" wizard?" scoffed Kili in disbelief.

Magma narrowed her eyes and the young dwarf.

"All that glitters, is not gold, Kili. And you'd do well to remember that."

"What's this about gold?" called Nori, and Magma noted a suspicious twinkle in the dwarve's eye. Of all the Company, he was the one whom she'd conversed with least, but she knew a sneak when she saw one.

"It's something I remember my mother used to say," she replied, and she noticed all the dwarves tilted their heads to listen. She paused, were they so hungry for knowledge of her? "All that glitters, is not gold, it was from a poem or something. It means that not everything is as it seems. Radagast the Brown is one of the greatest people, let alone wizards, I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Brave, loyal, and gentle hearted, I'd never ask for anything more of a friend."

Her eyes flicked up, and met Thorin's for a brief moment. He caught her gaze and held it steady, before giving such a small nod that she was sure she imagined it, before turning away again.

 _Does...does he approve of what I said?_ she thought dazedly, before snorting lightly and leaning back against a small though sturdy tree, why should it matter if he did?

Magma did a quick scan of the group, as had become her habit. Other than Ori and Bifur, who'd climbed higher to keep watch on the ponies, the dwarves were gathered in little groups, chatting quite happily and seeming, for now, to be relaxed.

Well, she smiled to herself, as relaxed as they can be.

She looked to her right, and saw Bilbo huddled down looking rather forlorn.

"Everything alright Bilbo?" she asked, and smiled when he jumped at her voice.

"Oh? Me? Alright? Yes, yes I suppose I am. And you?"

"Oh I'm swell." she replied, voice laden with sarcasm. But softened her voice after Bilbo's half harted attempt at an amused snort, "I've been meaning to say, actually, that I think you were brilliant with the trolls."

She smiled warmly at his shocked expression, though internally, she cursed that damn Oakenshield and his insufferable pride, was it so hard to say "thank you" when someone saved your life?

"Really?"

She barely had time to nod, when she was suddenly surrounded by eleven twitching noses butting her arms, hands, and midsection for attention.

She laughed and tried to move away, but Radagast's giant rabbits simply followed. One particularly large and demanding rabbit butted her middle hard enough to make her fall over, and then she couldn't see anything but bright brown eyes in furry grey faces. Magma couldn't help but squeal in laughter when their wet, pink noses starting pushing into her belly and their long, soft whiskers scraped across her neck; she was unbearably ticklish.

"Off! Off!" she hiccuped, "No treats for you! I don't have any carrots! Off!"

The huge rabbits, now hugely disappointed, slowly retreated back to the sled, where they then nibbled delicately on tufts of grass. One particular rabbit, however, had other ideas.

Her name was Rosie, and she was the largest, most stubborn rabbit of all. She did, however, have a peculiar fondness for Magma, and especially enjoyed having Magma scratch between her ears, or brush through her fur.

And so, to the amusement of the company, when all the other rabbits left, Rosie merely stayed where she was, eyeing Magma mischievously.

"Rosie..." she began warningly.

But it was too late, the large rabbit had flopped onto her side, lying across Magma, and effectively pinning her against the floor.

"Oompf!" a rabbit of Rosie's size was not light. But Magma gave in, as she always does, and began gently stroking through the rabbits fur. She closed her eyes, enjoying the brief respite. But blue eyes crowded her every thought, a certain dwarven king pictured against her eyelids, and she sighed in frustration. Now was not the time to go daydreaming about Thorin.

In fact, she thought sternly, no daydreaming about Thorin Oakenshield at all, ever. It's officially not allowed.

A chuckle caught her attention, and she craned her neck back and around as far as she could, and was greeted by the upside down images of Bofur, Fili, Kili, and Dori, all looking at her in blatant amusement.

"Comfy down there, lass?" asked Bofur cheekily as he brushed some dirt off of his cheek.

The two princes snorted as they attempted to cover up their own laughter, and Magma came up with a very cruel, very funny idea.

"Oh yes!" Magma whisper-shouted, "it's not everyday a flesh eating rabbit wants a cuddle."

The laughter slowly quieted, as the nearby dwarves started eyeing the rabbits warily.

"Flesh eating? Sorry, but did you just say flesh eating?" said Bilbo. Now the thing about Bilbo Baggins is, unless you pay attention, you often can't tell when he is being worried from when he is being confused.

When Magma craned her head to study the upside down Bilbo, she decided that this was a confused hobbit, not a worried one. And so, when he looked her way, she shot him a quick wink.

The slight breeze ruffled his curly locks a moment, before he scratched at his nose, attempting to hid the small smile that had crept onto his face.

"Oh yes!" she whisper-cried, "They'll skin a grown man alive in less than a minute!"

"A grown man?" whispered Fili. Magma had to stifle a laugh at his rounded eyes, though it was hard.

Bofur had begun to finger his pick-axe warily, and the two princes, along with the ever wary Dori, had begun to creep backwards.

"Oh yes!" Magma continued her stage whispering, she was enjoying the effect, "Now let me see, eleven rabbits, thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, and a girl...I'd say it'd take them four minutes to get through the lot of us." All the dwarves were now listening, and their eyes widened at this. Well, all except Oin and Thorin; the former wondered why she was raving about a lot of pus, and if he should go and see if anyone was infected, whilst the latter knew she was just being a nuisance.

"Though, maybe make it five, since we have Bombur and all." She added thoughtfully.

"Five minutes?" gulped Bofur.

"Oh yes! Just think of it as knives on springs!" She continued to whisper shout, as the dwarves had gone very quiet, and Bofur had even been whispering his responses to her.

Bilbo gulped air so as not to start laughing at the look on Bofur's face. Revenge was sweet.

"A wet, wiggling nose, brush of whiskers and then..."

"CHOMP!" Bellowed Magma. Now it had been so quiet as she talked, that the sudden shout caused Kili to fall onto Fili, who then fell onto Dori. Whilst at the same time, Bofur fell off of the rock he had perched upon, windmilling his arms a moment before landing soundly on his bottom.

The sudden ruckus caused Rosie to jump up in shock. Her sharp movement caused Thorin and Dwalin to pull out their weapons again, thinking the rabbit would attack.

Rosie, however had no patience for the likes of dwarves, and after eyeing up the scene before her; Fili, Kili, and Dori in a tangle on the floor, Bofur struggling to get back up, Thorin and Dwalin with weapons in hand, the rest of the company open-mouthed, the strange little creature on the rock snickering and snorting into his hand, and Magma rolling on the floor in tears, she decided she wanted nothing to do with any of it. Rosie stomped her foot once to say so, before bouncing back to her place in the line up, conversing with her sisters about the strangeness of the two-legged whilst she nibbled delicately on her own patch of grass.

Magma crowed with laughter on the floor, rolling from side to side as tears streamed down her face, completely uncaring that the damp earth was sticking to her clothes and hair in small clumps. She was also completely unaware that her chosen leader was marching towards her, a face like thunder, his blue eyes flashing in irritation. Her laughter was so loud that she couldn't hear the sound of his boots as he stormed her way, and dwarves are not exactly quiet when they walk.

"Do you think this is funny?" he growled down at her.

"Y-y-yesss!" she spluttered out, still laughing too hard, she didn't believe he was angry for a second, or he would've intervened earlier.

"And if they got hurt?" he said, still trying to maintain his mask of anger, which fell away abruptly when she spluttered;

"Did-Did-did you see..." she gasped and coughed for breath as her whole body shook from laughing so hard, "Their faces!" she shouted, falling into gasping laughter again. Thorin simply shook his head and stomped away, back to the head of the road, waiting for that blasted wizard to hurry up. And if his lips twitched up and his shoulders shook in silent laughter, well, who'd know?

When Magma finally caught her breath and sat up, she groaned.

"Oh, ow, my sides hurt now." she complained to Bofur, who, when she looked up, was rubbing at his backside. Magma fought valiantly against another bout of laughter, but a very unlady-like snort escaped alongside a few chuckles.

Bofur narrowed his eyes, throwing down his pick-axe.

"Right then lass!" he said, before picking her up and flinging her over his shoulder.

"Our turn to have a little fun!"

Dwarves, you may know, have exceptionally thick skulls. In fact, their whole bodies are rather strong and sturdy, and this is why it is so hard to make a dwarf dizzy.

Magma, on the other hand, is not a dwarf.

And so, when Bofur began spinning first one way, then the other, as fast as he could, she began seeing black spots rather quickly.

"Put! Me! DOWN!" she bellowed, to no avail, as now Fili and Kili had seen the spinning, and were laughing at the sweet sensation of instant Karma.

Though really, it was more like revenge.

"Bofur!" yelled Fili, and Bofur suddenly stopped spinning to throw Magma a full six foot to where Fili stood. She squeaked in shock, before landing with an 'oompf' in Fili's waiting arms. When she looked up, she could see why they called him the lion, with golden hair flowing like a river down his back, it looked especially shiny in the sunlight.

"Don't you dare." she said, but with a wink, Fili had thrown her over his own shoulder and began spinning her even faster than Bofur had. She began to squeal.

"Stop stop stop stop stop! Put me down, ahh!" but this only fuelled the dwarves' playful nature, as they all began to smile cheekily at her predicament, they couldn't take her complaints seriously, since she was still laughing.

"Brother!" called Kili, and Fili threw Magma, and the whole process began again.

What the dwarves didn't notice was the thick root just behind Kili's foot, and after only a few turns, he tripped and fell backwards.

Magma's eyes had been firmly closed at this point, and so she only felt the sudden fall. Had she opened her eyes, she'd have seen the damp earth rushing towards her, and the large, sharp rock located exactly by her temple as she landed. And though she didn't see it, she sure as fuck felt it.

Spin. Fall. Bash. Fade to black.

* * *

Kili sat up, slightly breathless, still laughing as he turned to help Magma up.

"See lass?" called Bofur as he leant lazily against a tree, "dwarves always pay our debts." The rest of the company laughed lightly, smiling and nodding at the statement, as it was very true; a debt, whether good or bad, would always be paid.

The cheerfulness was cut short, however, when a panicked Kili turned Magma over, and saw the bloody gash along the side of her face.

"Oin!" he shouted, "Oin, she's hurt!"

The elderly healer quickly shambled over, wondering if she was finally going to tell him what she was talking about pus for, but immediately set to work when he saw the amount of blood oozing from the cut on her head. Already, it had stained the mud and moss beneath her, and was sticking to her thick hair.

Gloin, Bofur, Fili, Dori, and Ori had all heard and started moving towards the commotion, worry etched onto their faces, but Thorin arrived at her side first, standing between her and the company.

"Back to your posts! There could still be danger here, let Oin do his work!" he barked, and they drifted back to their watches, glancing worriedly at the growing pool of blood, and the small girl beside it.

After sending away his company, Thorin turned to the girl.

There was so much blood. It dripped across her face, into her hair, puddled at the ground. He felt his face pale at her closed eyes, her immobile body.

 _She's so delicate_ , he thought, _so breakable_.

"Just a slight flesh wound laddie. Doesn't even need stitches, I'll just bandage her up."

"But..." Thorin began carefully.

 _She should never have come_.

He'd once heard it said that lying to yourself was easy, but that thought sent his stomach rolling in protest.

"But there's so much blood." he finished. Mahal, there was so much.

"Aye lad, there often is with a head wound. She'll have a mighty fine headache when she wakes up, but there shouldn't even be a scar once it's all healed up properly."

He sighed through his nose, relieved.

Oin finished tying the clean white bandaging around her head, but already it was growing darker as more blood seeped through.

"What happened here?" Thundered an angry grey wizard, an equally miffed looking brown one by his side.

 _Mahal._

* * *

Ok guys so it's just a short one in way of apology for the long-ass wait (sorrysorrysorry) but hopefully things will be back on track soon! Next time - what will Gandalf and Radagast say...OOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooh XD


	6. Chapter 6 - Not a Doll

See bottom for apology...did I mention I love you guys? Coz' I do! x

Update - I changed the title! I remember why the original title was what it was, but I'd changed the chapter a bit and it wasn't relevent anymore and blah blah blah

I also think at this point guys, it's pretty clear that my updates will never be regular, sorry :')

Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all its characters belong to Sir Tolkein (With the exception of some of Peter Jacksons additions) I do not own the universe or the story, but the Main OC and any future OCs are mine.

* * *

Chapter 6 - Not a Doll

* * *

"The Greenwood is sick, Gandalf. A darkness has fallen over it, nothing grows anymore. At least...nothing good."

A few feet from Magma and the dwarves, Gandalf stood with Radagast the Brown. The two Wizards were taking their small amount of privacy to discuss matters that best be spoken of in...well, private.

Despite the greenery around them and the sounds of playful idleness from the company, nothing seemed able to quell the shadow growing within Gandalf's soul, and even the light seeping through the trees seemed to dim at Radagast's words.

"The air..." the Brown wizard continued, "is foul with decay. But worse are the webs."

Gandalf abruptly straightened, a shiver of fear running up his spine, as he turned to eye his companion warily.

"Webs? What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

"Spiders, Gandalf. Giant ones." the elderly wizard clucked and fussed, "Some kind of spawn of Ungoliant, or I'm not a wizard!" he exclaimed, before fixing Gandalf with a heavy stare, lowering his voice.

"I followed their trail. They came from...Dol Guldur."

"Dol Guldur?" murmured the Grey wizard in suprise, "But the old fortress is abandoned."

His eyes widened at the obvious distress in the eyes of the Brown wizard, as he breathed;

"No, Gandalf...it is not."

Gandalf's eyes flickered over Radagast's face as the wizard told his story, each breath growing more ragged, more agitated, as he continued.

"A dark power dwells there, such as I have never felt before. It is the shadow of an ancient horror. One that can summon the spirits of the dead! I saw him Gandalf. From out of the darkness...the Necromancer has come!"

Radagast was shaken to his very core, his breath came in rasping pants at the memory of an old horror. His eyes were wide, the whites clearly visible around the edges as he flicked them up to his towering companion, muttering an apology at his behaviour.

Gandalf cleaned the end of his pipe, passing it over to Radagast.

"Try a little old Toby, hm? Help settle your nerves." His suggestion came out in a tone far calmer than the emotions he was currently feeling, which surprised him slightly, but would work in his favour, he decided, if it aided in calming his distressed companion.

Radagast inhaled deeply from the pipe, holding the strong blend of weed smoke in his lungs, before exhaling slowly at Gandalf's gentle insistance.

The brown wizard took a few more gentle puffs as he watched his friend. Gandalf's eye had been pulled from his companion throughout the story, and he now stared openly at the golden tinted girl playing in the sunlight with her dwarven companions.

His grip tightened upon his staff, and he twisted the old, knotted wood worriedly, grinding the end into the soft soil. Light seemed to flock towards her, shining through the trees' to play in her hair. It even appeared to come forth from her very being, to those who knew enough to look, her skin and eyes shone with inner sunlight.

But even as the light flocked to her, so too did the shadows. Her own light gave the shadows more depth; what would ordinarily be a grey wisp, become a deep, black abyss when she stood near. Her lightness fed the dark, and the darkness fed her light; as her light grew brighter, so too did the shadows grow longer. This was something that worried Gandalf greatly.

"She'll be ok." stated Radagast, and Gandalf's eyes only briefly flickered to the brown wizard, before returning to his ward, who was screaming profanities at Bofur, whom had begun twirling her about.

"You have to trust her, Gandalf." he continued, "She won't always need your protection, but, like any new fledgling, she'd need your guidance, and your love."

He turned to see the Brown wizard eyeing him hard, and relaxed his grip on his staff. Shaking his head, he put aside all thoughts and concerns of light and dark for the moment. Turning back to the issue at hand.

"Now," began Gandalf, retrieving his pipe, "The Necromancer, are you sure?"

Radagast's face fell, and he reached into his brown robes. Layers upon layers rustled and parted as he pulled forth an object, holding it out to Gandalf with trembling hands.

"That," he whispered, "Is not from the world of the living."

The pair shared a glance heavy with mortal fear, quickly gathering the sword that had no place in this world away. Gandalf was just about to question Radagast further when he realised the entire forest around them had grown incredibly silent; even Radagast's rabbits did not stir.

The only sounds, were the hushed voices of 13 dwarves, and a hobbit. Gandalf's jaw tightened in anger when he realised the fools had done something unutterably stupid whilst their backs had been turned, and so the pair made their way back to the group, feet making nary a sound on the soft, plush undergrowth.

Though he doubted a herd of rampaging Mumakil would struggle to sneak up upon a group of distracted Dwarves.

It wasn't until they saw the blood feeding the plants on the forest floor, and Magma's prone figure, however, before they became truly angry.

"What happened here?" Thundered Gandalf, who could feel the waves of resentment coming off of Radagast at the sight of their girl lying so pale amongst the leaf litter.

Thorin had the decency to look sheepish for all of ten seconds before barking back at the wizard.

"They were not paying attention. She hit her head, Oin has seen to it and she will be fine."

That's when the howling started.

* * *

A large group of dwarves had taken residence inside Magma's head, and had all decided to begin a merry jig with heavy footed trampling upon her brain. She groaned, sitting herself up slowly.

Though the jig ceased, she couldn't help the feeling those dwarves hadn't quite gone away. As she peeled open her eyes she wondered where the hell she got the alcohol from, and why on earth had she decided to drink it all?

When her eyes finally cooperated and opened fully, she blinked owlishly, then snorted.

Owlishly, she thought, who ever came up with "Owlishly", as she swayed lightly from side to side.

Or was everything else swaying? Who cared? She found the Dwarves that were in her head.

Except, well, they weren't in her head. They were outside it, arguing with two taller gentlemen, and despite their arguing, they all seemed to be swaying quite merrily.

She groaned again, louder, and blinked slowly at everyone who turned to look.

 _That's a lot of eyes...or is it "Pairs of eyes"? Either way...lots and lots and lots..._

"One...Two.." She squinted, "Three..."

"What are you doing?" barked the bright blue eyes.

She snorted. Then outright laughed. Then she winced, since that definitely hurt. Then she decided she'd try counting again.

"Four...do eyes that are dead count?" she murmured out-loud. She could clearly see some eyes that were not alive anymore...one wasn't even in a head! She decided she kind of liked that eye, it stayed still and wasn't looking at her funny, and the way the grass curled around it made the yellow really stand out...

"Magma!" shouted...someone? There were some grey eyes looking at her...they were very concerned grey eyes...maybe she should smile?

Hmm...nope, that didn't work, they just looked even more upset. Oh well.

"Six and seven." she stated, meaning the two grey eyes.

"Eight and nine!" she called cheerily, as a pair of brown eyes ducked their way into her vision, the brown eyes had a face, and the face had a mouth, and that mouth was saying something about something going to sting?

She didn't really care, nine eyes was nice, but she really wanted to find another yellow eye, as she was sure they came in pairs...

"Ow!" Magma sat up straight, hissing and cursing at the stinging feeling in the centre of her head. She'd be grateful that the world had stopped swaying later, for now...

"Bloody hells bells Radagast! What was that for?"

She peered around with one eye squeezed firmly shut against the pain, and regarded the scene before her.

Sixteen pairs of eyes stared back in varying degrees of shock, amusement, and irritation as she glared at them.

The ground beneath her feet squelched and she looked down to find it saturated with black Warg blood. Crimson blood was flecked on her own shirt, and she looked about to see a large puddle of red soaking into the green grass and moss as well.

Two dead Wargs appeared to be the reason behind the large pools of Warg blood, but why was there...

"Who's been hurt?" she asked, voice rising in panic as she indicated the red puddle, wincing as her head gave yet another lurching pound.

"You have."

She eyed Gandalf in shock at the sincerity in his voice.

"What...?"

She turned when a twig broke on her right, and came face to face with a guilt ridden Kili.

"I, um, I dropped you. And I managed to drop you right onto a rock..."

"Oh..." Magma nodded dumbly, her head still ached.

"We've no time for this!" barked Dwalin, "We have to get out of here!"

"We can't!" responded a panicked Ori, "We have no ponies, they bolted!"

The group muttered and groaned in protest at their rotten luck, and Magma would have happily joined in, if she wasn't concentrating so hard on trying to make her feet move. They slowly moved from side to side as she frowned down at them. Despite whatever magic Radagast had used, she still seemed to have a light concussion, as she was struggling to focus her eyesight, as it slipped from her feet to the grass in a rapid, dizzying rhythm.

A strong hand encased her upper arm, attempting to pull her up, and she fell straight into the soft grass she'd been struggling not to stare at. She listened half-heartedly as more bickering ensued, and found herself staring into the yellowed eye of a Warg. She snorted in amusement as she remembered looking at this eye earlier. A heavy foot fell into her line of sight, crushing the eye under the weight of the dwarf above, and Magma screwed up her nose at the sight of opaque ooze leaking out from the eye to join the blood gathering in thick, congealing puddles on the damp earth.

Thorin gripped her upper arms again, pulling her upright, before lifting her fully. Had she been fully aware of what was happening, she'd have blushed, as she was pulled tight against that strong chest...

And those arms were wrapped around her again...

And his hair tickled her nose, smelling of pipe-smoke and earth...

She'd blush about it later.

She found herself deposited onto Radagast's sled, which took off across the forest floor with a sudden lurch, with barely enough time to turn and take one last, blurred look at her company before the forest took over.

The sled burst from the tree-line with a jump, the wind whistling past Magma's ears as they left the cover on the forest and reached the open fields.

The fresh, cool air and bright sunlight smacked her soundly in the face; a sudden, heady combination that cleared the cobwebs from her mind.

She turned around to stare open-mouthed at the Brown Wizard, who whooped and yelled in sheer delight as he goaded the Orc pack into following him.

"What's going on?!" She bellowed.

"Nice to see you're feeling better!" he replied cheekily, "Well dear, you got bumped on the head, no way you'd be able to run like that, so we're going to distract the Orcs for the dwarves, then I'll...Whoa!" he ended in a sharp yell, as the rabbits took a particularly sharp turn, nearly toppling the sled, and its occupants, onto the sharp rocks below.

"Anyway, I'll drop you off after!" he finished, before turning his head to scream "Come and get me!" at their pursuers.

Magma turned her head to take in their surroundings, then shrugged.

Well, how often do I get an opportunity to have fun like this?

A grin threatened to split her face in two as she wrapped her arms around Radagast's waist in order to swing herself around to land behind him, the last of her golden hair escaping the bun she'd put it in.

Lowering herself into a slight crouch, she kept her left arm securely wrapped around Radagast's leg as she raised her right hand.

 _I'm surrounded by sunlight here, idiots._

She allowed herself a moment to let the warm rays of sunlight to infuse her body with warmth and vitality, healing any and all injuries she'd amassed recently, and then let out a burst of power; ten globes of light buzzing around the sled in a protective circle. Then with a cry of utter, joyful exhilaration...she really let loose.

She released volley after volley of bright light from her hand, some blinded the Wargs, causing them to crash into and attack one another, a gruesome tornado of metal and flesh and fur, the snapping and snarling of the Warg's great jaws mixed sporadically with the angered cries of their confused riders, some burned with more heat than a thousand camp fires, and burning through any and all protection the enemy had, leaving small pools of molten metal to harden in the grass.

As she crouched, she began to laugh and hoot along with the Wizard. The smell of burnt fur and charred earth wafted to her across the breeze, and the thick, brittle grass swished against her legs and sides as they continued their mad race.

Then the dwarves bollocked it up.

Her head whipped round to see the company making a total pigs ear of dispatching a lone Orc. But the worse thing was the amount of noise they made; Radagast had led them further than the Orc pack had gone, and even they could hear the riot they'd caused.

"I'll bring you closer!" He called over the wind, though she could barely hear him over the rushing of her blood in her ears.

Her heart thudded painfully inside her chest, pumping wildly as her lungs overworked in preparation for the jump.

As they got closer, Magma allowed her mind to clear.

She could see the dwarves shouting in panic as they became aware that they were surrounded on all fronts by the Orc pack.

Magma let the light take over, and leapt.

She pulled her two silver knives out as she jumped, bringing them both down into the neck of the nearest Warg, and used the momentum to flip herself around, landing in front of Ori.

She winced slightly when she realised the Orc riding the Warg had caught her side with a knife, but pushed it to the back of her mind.

The young dwarf had fallen in fear of the Warg that had been creeping ever closer, and now she stood above him, globes of light forming a whirling vortex of power around her as she stood against the enemy who crept ever closer.

 _Kill them_ , whispered a dark voice, _all of them. You know you can. Just one thought, and they won't even have the time to scream..._

The voice cut off abruptly when an arrow whizzed by her ear to stick through the Warg's eye, and her eyes widened. As the body crumpled to the earth, the voice tried to return, whispering behind her ears like a swarm of bees, growing in strength and numbers as she listened...

Her lungs worked like bellows as she pulled in a breath, and just as quickly forced it out, her whole body illuminated as her globes brightened and vibrated even faster as the voice whispered. It promised so much, it promised death, destruction, safety...

"This way, you fools!" called another voice. This voice was old. Magma knew that voice, it was the voice that would scold and comfort. It was the voice that issued warnings and told marvellous stories.

 _Father?_ she whispered in her thoughts, and the dark voices fled.

"Come on, move! Quickly, all of you!" shouted another voice, rumbling with power, and Magma shook her head finally coming back to herself.

She could see again, could see Thorin standing over a hidden gap in the rocks where one by one, the company disappeared. She could also see Ori, white with fear as he cowered on the ground beneath her.

Her heart nearly stopped when she realised he was afraid of her.

"Ori..." She started, leaning down, arm outstretched.

He flinched back.

Magma felt her face harden with determination, they did not have time for this. She reached out again, wrapping her hand around his arm and pulling him to his feet. He wobbled a moment as she thrust him ahead of her, before settling into a rhythm. She kept a steady pace behind him.

As the ground beneath Magma's feet changed, becoming rocky, she slowed further, skidding to a stop at the opening of the hidden passage, standing opposite Thorin. Their eyes met as Ori's ginger locks disappeared down the hole, hers tired and sad as she gripped at a growing pain in her side, his sharp with fear and annoyance.

"Go!" he barked at her, indicating the hole with a nod of his head.

Coughing out a sharp breath, she leant over her legs, golden hair flailing in the wind as she shook her head once with a jerk, eyes scanning the long grass for any sign of leftover members of the company.

A head of raven locks darted between the blades, pausing briefly before continuing its mad dash.

"Kili!" called Thorin, catching his nephew's attention and drawing him towards the rocks.

As the king's nephews drew closer, Magma felt her head start swimming, and went to lean against the rocks, hand still clasped tightly to her side.

A tight grip on her arm jerked her attention upwards, where her eyes met those of the icy dwarf king. He seemed shocked for a moment, and Magma could see in his eyes the reflection of her own, that shone brightly in her head.

"Get down there!" he ordered, but Magma shook her head, sending her long locks flying, and she briefly noted that they tangled into his own long dark hair, the gold seeming to shine brighter against the black.

"Not before you, your majesty." She ground out, eyebrow twitching as humour danced in her eyes.

His own eyes narrowed as he growled in displeasure at her cockiness, but before he could comment, two sudden blurs raced past to jump into the opening; Fili and Kili had made it.

Magma's protest died in her throat as Thorin picked her up, and quickly dropped her down the opening.

 _I am steadily getting sick of that_ , she thought tiredly, allowing gravity to drag her down, beneath the earth.

* * *

Magma came awake to the feeling of rapid swaying, and something tickling lightly against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered as she attempted to roll over, but someone had tied her to the bed...

Oh no, wait, she was being carried again.

 _You know_ , she thought to herself, _I never thought I'd grow fed up with being in Thorin's arms...BUT I AM NOT A DOLL!_

"Put me down." she muttered, not opening her eyes.

"No." he whispered.

"Why not?"

"Because you have a knack for getting into danger and I'll not have you risking this company with your foolishness. You will not move until we get to Rivendell."

Hmm, did she detect a note of bitterness towards the end there?

"I'm not a doll, Thorin, now put me down." she growled, allowing her eyes to open to slight golden slivers, which she used to glare up at him.

He simply chose to ignore her, and continued his steady jog towards the shining city.

Magma huffed out a breath, opening her eyes fully to take in their surroundings.

They were moments away from entering Rivendell, two towering statues of elven warriors guarded the circular patio. The many waterfalls created a calming hush, one which had always had the ability to send Magma quickly to sleep whenever Gandalf had brought her here before, and the lush greenery which appeared to sprout from every available corner with ease aided the air of tranquillity. But even as Magma relaxed, she could feel Thorin tense.

She rolled her eyes, it really wasn't her problem. It wasn't.

 _Not my problem, not my problem, not my problem, not my problem..._

"Um, Thorin?"

 _Damn._

"Yes?"

"Lord Elrond...he's really not that bad. Just..." she sighed, this is pointless, "...give him a chance?"

His response was silence.

 _Yeah, thought you might say that._

Magma continued to study her surroundings, and felt her stomach lurch when she realised the sun was setting, and only the thinnest dappling of light covered the courtyard. She wasn't sure how she'd managed to keep her injury from Thorin's attention, but if she wanted to keep it that way, she needed to get to the light before it faded.

 _That's what I get for showing off and being acrobatic, Elladan and Elrohir are gonna kill me..._

* * *

Ok Ok I am sooo so so so so sorry about how long this has taken! Lets just go with the usual excuses of work is time consuming, and my life sucks? Also, I have a sneaky medical condition that occasionally runs over and punches me hard enough to knock me out for a week and that's been happening a lot lately! Anyway, hope you enjoy, and the next one will be up faster than this one was, I promise!

(And yes, I'm including the twins. Because I can.)


	7. Chapter 7 - Epiphany

Ok so here we have it! I know it's not a massive chapter, but I'm working on the next as we speak! Or type...or read...whatever, it's on the way!

Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all its characters belong to Sir Tolkein (With the exception of some of Peter Jacksons additions) I do not own the universe or the story, but the Main OC and any future OCs are mine.

* * *

Chapter 7 - Epiphany

* * *

It is not too hard to imagine waking up somewhere you do not recall going to sleep. Nor, I'd venture, is it too difficult to imagine waking up and realising your clothes have also changed.

It's the sort of feeling we've all had, when we were small and our parents carried us to bed, quite probably after we'd fallen asleep watching our favourite T.V. show which we just _had_ to watch, even though it was on way past our bed times. When we woke up in the morning, convinced we'd somehow teleported to our bedrooms, and burrowed deeper into the downy quilt with the cheekiest of sleepy smirks plastered across our faces, pulling lightly at our favourite pair of pyjamas, which still smelt of fabric softener from where a loving mother had just cleaned them that evening.

Though, it could also be a very different feeling.

It could be the feeling when you wake up to find you managed to remove your shirt and one shoe, but passed out before fully undressing after a night of heavy drinking. With make-up caked on areas it was not designed to be, and the still strong smell of varying alcoholic drinks hovering in the air.

Or it could be the feeling when you wake up after an accident. When, for example, you fell down the stairs and hit your head, or even just broke a bone, and the hours and hours of late night poking and prodding from the doctor have left you so tired, so run down, that when you do _finally_ wake up, it takes you a good few minutes to remember just where you are.

And why you hurt _everywhere_.

This last scenario is the closest we could come to an everyday example of just how crappy Magma felt when she woke up.

Waking up, for Magma, was a very confusing affair. She recognised the high, curved ceiling above her. She knew that sweet breeze that wafted over her. She even recognised the bird song, somehow seeming much sweeter here.

Even the sunlight was different.

 _It's cleaner...lighter. As if that makes any damn sense._

She wiggled slightly, burrowing herself deeper into the mattress that was softer than the feathers of a baby bird, sighing softly. Following the patterns and arches of the ceiling, she allowed herself to fully relax in her room in Rivendell.

And that's when it hit her.

Shooting up from her bed, she winced, closing her eyes, and clutched at her side in pain, as it protested sharply at her sudden movement.

 _How did I get here? Thorin was carrying me to the patio, which I plan of having words with him for actually, anyway, and then...then..._

But she could not remember.

Not that it mattered anyway, because, as she was clutching her side, two small bodies flung themselves onto her bed and crushed her between them.

"Magma!" chorused two voices she knew well.

"Bilbo? Ori?" she groaned, "Gerroff' that hurts!"

As they sheepishly moved away, she allowed a long, slow breath to seep out of her, testing the boundaries of her injuries, and trying to search her thoughts for what she'd missed.

She slowly opened her eyes again to be greeted by the two smiling faces of her friends, who sat at the foot of her bed. An array of books and ink wells scattered between them, a few flowers had also been plucked from the garden and apparently were in the process of being pressed. As she ran her hand up to her hair, gathering the thick curls into a bun at the top of her head, she noticed that one of the wells had toppled over during the pair's excitement to see their friend awake, and was now spreading in a blue-black stain across the pristine white sheets, heading perilously close to a collection of bright purple freesias, blue corn flowers, and light pink peonies, all of which rested gently against Bilbo's leg.

"Umm..." Magma muttered, raising her eyebrows and nodding her head down towards the flowers.

Looking down, Bilbo gasped in horror, gathering the flowers and holding them to his chest like a mother would a babe, sending a furious glare to the dwarf.

Ori's face glowed with embarrassment as he quickly capped his ink and placed all his precious books away from the growing puddle, as they began quietly bickering, Magma found herself smiling despite the pain in her side.

It had been too long since she'd felt truly at ease. Even when she was at home, in her little cottage in the woods, she was always alert, always with her little balls of light at the ready for any hint of danger. It was never until she reached the valley of the Elves that she'd feel all that fear slowly seep from her pores.

It was, as she'd earlier thought, as if everything about this hidden place was lighter, cleaner, and more peaceful than anything that could be found outside it, and that every breath of the air, every dapple of sunlight, saturated you in this pool of well-being until even the most tense, most fearful of creatures could stretch out its limbs and relax.

"I told you we shouldn't balance the ink on the bed, now look at this mess!"

"Well...well look at the stains the pollen from your flowers have made, they'll never get that out!"

Magma giggled lightly, mindful of her injury, and the pair ceased their bickering to turn their attention back to her, small smiles of their own upon their pink faces.

"So, what have I missed?"

* * *

"...she will be fine!" growled Thorin Oakensheild, future King Under the Mountain.

Or at least he will be, if two royally pissed off Wizards don't throttle him first. Bilbo stood well out of the way, as he did not like the tone of this conversation one bit, standing by Bofur, who twiddled with his pickaxe nervously. In fact, he looked about, they all seemed somewhat twitchy.

Either looking at their boots or playing with their weapons, not a single dwarf appeared to have the nerve to even look at the quarrelling trio, much less interrupt.

" _Fine..."_ began Gandalf, but a sudden, throaty howl echoed through the trees', and the three turned at once to the direction it had come from.

Standing, Bilbo looked to the Wizards.

"Is that a wolf? Are...are there _wolves_ out there?" The poor Hobbit, who'd never in all his life done anything remotely adventurous, let alone dangerous, was tense as a bow string at the thought of real danger.

Oh, of course he'd faced the danger of the trolls quite well, but that was very different. A troll had, to some extent, intellect. And if there was something Bilbo felt he could learn to excel at, it was talking his way out of problems. But wolves? How, exactly, could one argue with _teeth_?

"Wolves?" Repeated Bofur, gripping his pick axe again, "No, that is not a wolf."

The previously still group began moving and watching, waiting for an attack they were sure was coming...

They all turned their head at the snap of a branch above the heads of Gloin, Bofur, and Bilbo, and cried out in horror as a Warg leapt over their heads.

Thorin and Dwalin quickly dispatched it with two strong strokes of their blades, but Thorins had become stuck in the rigid gristle of the beast's bones, wedging itself firmly between shoulder blade and neck.

Bilbo had never felt his heart beat so hard against his breast before.

To make matters worse, another of the foul creatures had come about their other side! Kili managed to shoot it down with one well aimed arrow before it could land upon Thorin, and Dwalin finished the deed with his great sword when it almost took off Thorin's arm, as it snapped and snarled in rage!

"Warg scouts!" Cried Thorin, breathless from his fight, "Which means an Orc pack cannot be far behind!"

"Orc pack?" Questioned Bilbo, eyebrows raised.

"Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?" asked Gandalf, making his way back to the dwarf, previous quarrel put aside for now.

* * *

"You know..." said Bilbo, wiggling his nose, "I'm not entirely sure when you woke up, exactly. I could just be repeating what you've already heard."

Magma had fidgeted about in her bed, pulling her knees in front of her as she listened to Bilbo's retelling of events. He was a natural born storyteller, gesturing gently with his arms as he told his story, keeping Magma's attention without moving about wildly.

Her thin white night dress had made the boys blush, and so she'd pulled the slightly thicker quilt up and over her shoulders, though this had caused a slope for the ink to roll down, spreading the stain. Though really, it was hardly going to matter.

The light scratching sound of Ori's pen upon paper was oddly comforting in the background as Bilbo's eager voice had depicted the battle, though the smell coming from all of Bilbo's flowers was slightly overpowering.

"You know," She said, "I'm not entirely sure either. I couldn't hear voices, just noise. And I seem to remember having a strange obsession with eyes...why don't you carry on, and I'll tell you when I'm all caught up?"

* * *

Thorin, of course, denied having told anyone beyond his own people that he was on a quest, and really, with issues like his, it was not hard to believe.

"What in Durin's name is going on here?" he murmured.

"You are being hunted." Replied the Grey Wizard ominously. The two had then shared a look. That look seemed ancient, a look that held all the heaviest woes in all of time, as though they knew what it was like...to be prey.

That's when Magma started counting.

It had started with a groan, light and feminine, which drew every eye of the company her way, and her eyes seemed to roll about in her head with no particular destination in mind.

"One...Two...Three..." She said. And it seemed as though she'd said it very loudly and very quietly all at once, as her voice lacked not in volume, but in her usual cheery strength.

Thorin tried to get her attention, standing directly in her way and calling her name. But all she did was snort, in a very unladylike fashion, before outright laughing.

Then she just...kept counting.

Not everyone in the company could hear what she was saying, in fact, it had been up for debate as to whether or not she was really aware of what she was saying herself.

She spoke of eyes coming in pairs, and grass, and the colour yellow.

Then when Gandalf tried to get her attention, she gave him a very lopsided, almost broken smile, as though a part of her face wasn't working at all.

She did cheer up a moment, though, when Radagast took over.

"I warn you, fledgling, this little spell is going to sting quite a bit..." He cautioned, rubbing his hands together rapidly, as Magma happily called out;

"Eight and nine!"

As Radagast's palms rubbed two and fro, as small blue glow seemed to peek out from between his finger tips, and as he increased in speed, so the glow grew brighter.

The company, though wary, all craned their necks over to see, and even Bilbo stood upon his tippy toes to watch, as the Wizard very suddenly darted forward, slapping the palm of his right hand soundly against Magma's forehead.

The glow seemed to stick for a moment, before sinking in, lighting up her eyes as she sat up.

"Ow!" she complained, sitting up for the first time, and the company each took a deep, relived breath. Though Bilbo's ears turned quite pink at the varying curses that the small girl muttered under her breath as she rubbed at her forehead.

As she continued to berate Radagast, she looked around with one eye squeezed firmly closed, giving her a rather odd appearance.

Her clothes were soaked along one side with her own blood, some of which was matting into the side of her hair, which was so far out of her previous bun that it was a wonder she even bothered to keep it up at all. Her nose was also scrunched up in a grimace, though it was unclear whether that was because she could smell something foul, or if it was just a side effect of her closed eye. And she was attempting to glare at them all! With one eye! Well, that was not having the desired effect, as several of the group simply held their breath to keep from chuckling at her.

Bilbo glared at those particular culprits, it's not exactly hard to imagine who would be trying not to laugh in this situation, as he felt this was no laughing matter at all.

When Bilbo next looked over, a very contrite Kili was apologising to Magma.

As the company argued about the where-to's and why-for's of their escape method, as those dratted ponies had just gone and run away, Thorin moved his way over to the swaying girl.

His great hand wrapped almost all the way around her upper arm, as he pulled her to her feet.

Only for her to fall straight back down again.

This, in turn, caused another argument.

"For someone so adamant not to take responsibility over this girl, you have been poking your nose in far too much!" grumbled Gandalf, moving forward as if to place himself between Thorin and Magma.

"If my healer says she's fine..." He began, his voice lowered in anger.

"Fine? _Fine?_ The girl can barely hold her own head up!" Squawked Radagast over his shoulder, as he manoeuvred around the puddles of blood to reach his sled.

"We do not have time for this discussion!" Replied Gandalf, "We must move!"

"I'll draw them off."

Gandalf turned to his old friend, as did Bilbo, after all, could that batty old Wizard really help them in any way at all?

"Those are Gundabad Wargs," he stated, turning to dismiss the Brown Wizard, "They will outrun you."

"These are Rhosgobel rabbits!" he called.

No one else in the company had a clue what this meant, after all, a rabbit, even a giant one, is just a rabbit.

But Gandalf turned to Radagast in surprise, as the other Wizard grinned cheekily, leaning back against his sled.

"I'd like to see them try."

Gandalf slowly nodded his approval, and though the company still thought this was all madness, they began gathering their weaponry in preparation for their run.

"Bring Magma here!" Called Radagast, and Thorin pulled the prone young woman off the ground, carrying her gently in his arms to place her in front of Radagast.

As he turned away, the air about him seemed to grow darker. Colder. And a voice rougher than a falling boulder, and deeper than the greatest of caverns came from behind him, chilling the dwarf down to his every bone.

"You can apologise to this girl later," said the deep voice, and when Thorin turned, Radagast the Brown stood before him. It was as though every shadow in the tree's had flocked to him, he seemed taller, darker, and twin black stars appeared to shine beneath his hooded eyes, "And I do mean _apologise_ , Dwarven King."

Bilbo watched as Thorin nodded once, before walking away, and Radagast shrank, came back into himself, and rushed through the trees with an echoing cry.

* * *

"...And you know what happened after that, I suppose. Where do your memories leave off dear?" finished Bilbo.

Magma took a few moments to answer, as her eyes and mouth were, not for the first time, wide open at the story.

Thorin and Gandalf, arguing about _her?_ And Radagast even threatened him! Sweet, gentle Radagast...

 _By the Light..._

The real issue now though, was Magma would spend the rest of the journey worrying about whether or not Thorin really would apologise to her...and if so, what on earth for?

* * *

An epiphany is defined as a moment of great revelation or realisation. That's it.

Now, if you were to go about an epiphany using just the definition, then pretty much anything could be an epiphany. For the moment, Magma was _not_ having an epiphany.

She was, quite simply, refusing to make any life changing realisations before breakfast.

So instead she chose the far easier option of a simple realisation. That is, she realised that her side was hurting more and more with each passing minute, and she was not enjoying the thin white dress she'd been put in by the elves.

It wasn't the fabric's density that bothered her, she does enjoy being naked after all, but it was the colour.

One of the few cloudy memories she had of her parents was a day when her mother placed a scrap of white fabric on Magma's head, pinning it to her hair. And though she doesn't remember the conversation, she knows it was about marriage.

Even now, if she closes her eyes, she can see it.

A small girl, with soft features and a rounded face, the biggest pair of golden eyes staring at her own reflection. She wriggles her toes into the plush, brown carpeting of her mother's bedroom, while her mother giggles in the background.

Sometimes she'd hear that giggle in her sleep, and it'd make her smile.

She can see the little Magma gasp in wonder and adoration as her mother pulls from the depths of her wardrobe, a long, white dress. The dress has a layer of lace, which is detailed in patterns of roses and leaves, stretching around the skirt and along full length sleeves. It seems to cascade in a never ending river of white from her mother's arms, trailing along the floor as she lays it out for the little Magma.

"One day..." the voice is faint with time, the memory of her real voice lost, "One day, my little one, you will wear this, with your prince charming on your arm."

And that was the day when her mother told her all about marriage, and weddings, and dresses, and tablecloths, and bridesmaids, and groomsmen, and so many wonderful things that Magma couldn't wait to get married.

"And only the bride wears white on her wedding day." She'd been told. And though it seemed silly, she felt as though she should only wear white for something as important as her wedding.

It was for this reason, that she decided to pause the storytelling for now, and make herself her own dress.

The only problem being, she had to heal her side, and...

"Umm, guys?"

The dwarf and the hobbit spun round quickly to look at her.

"You may not know, but, I got injured when we were running from the Wargs..."

"What!" They chorused, though they each took a different second approach.

"I'll get Oin!" called, Ori, heading for the door.

"I'll get one of the Elves!" shouted Bilbo, tripping over the ink well that had been placed on the floor.

"Wait, wait!" she called, rubbing at her nose to stop her laughter, "Come here!"

They returned to the bed, arms crossed, prepared to argue her into getting her injury seen to. Bilbo wiggled his nose as he smeared his feet in even more of the black ink that had spilled all over the floor.

 _Oh boy, here we go..._

"I can heal myself actually." She said. Or was it more of a squeak?

"You most certainly can _not_!" replied Bilbo.

Ori just stared at her blankly, seemingly unsure of whether or not healing _was_ actually something she could do.

"Can. Look, I'll show you." Magma sighed, rolling up her dress to reveal a nasty gash on her side.

It was a large wound, grazing from halfway down her ribcage to almost reach her belly button as it curved inwards. In truth, she was lucky it had only been a flesh wound.

She giggled inwardly as the boys made a fuss of her showing too much skin, before simply watching in awe at her rapidly healing flesh.

There was a round window just above Magma's bed, with two smaller round windows on either side. These had been a specially commissioned addition by Lord Elrond himself when he'd first seen the rune scars on Magma's back. These windows were never covered, and as a result, could always provide her with sunlight to her room as long as the sun was up.

Right now, the sun was shining straight onto the runes themselves, and she sighed in relief as the familiar burning tingle zapped through her shoulder muscles and down her spine as the runes absorbed the lights' energy.

Ori and Bilbo gaped as they watched the sunlight move across her skin, like a river of gold through her veins, coming to a stop as it hit the injury, until all the light gathered there. The light flared a moment, and the flesh started to heal rapidly. When the light faded, there was no sign that anything had occurred at all.

Magma took her first, deep breath of air, delighting in the feeling of her ribs expanding without pain, before leaning back against the pillows.

Her friends continued to stare, even as she rolled the dress back into place, and she just let them take their time with it.

"So...how...?" questioned Ori slowly, his voice almost unnoticeable in its timidness. Bilbo, continued to stare.

"Really? I created a pen out of thin air for you, but _this_ you can't comprehend?" She laughed. The sound of her laughter seemed to break Bilbo from his reverie, and he shook his head before seating himself back onto the bed.

"But, not even a _mark?_ " he questioned, seemingly finding his voice easier than Ori had. Magma shook her head with a sad smile, smirking when she realised that Ori had reverted back to a usual habit he undertook when nervous.

He was making notes.

"Seemingly able to withstand injuries longer than normal...oustanding healing..." He murmured beneath his breath as his golden pen winked in the sunlight.

Magma outright laughed at this.

"You know, Ori, if you want to make notes on me, all you need to do is ask."

The young dwarf looked up at this, cheeks ablaze, then flicked his gaze between Magma and Bilbo.

"Go ahead." She urged gently.

"Well...it's just that, um, like Bilbo said...not even a _mark_? Is it always like that?"

One corner of her lip lifted briefly in a wry smile, but she was unusually serious when she answered.

"Only if it's not serious. Only truly... _life threatening_ injuries leave a mark. And even then...they tend to fade with time."

If she'd thought about what she'd said then, as Ori furiously scribbled into his book whilst Bilbo tried to rub ink off of his foot, she'd never have done what she did next.

Magma is not, and never really has been, bothered by nakedness. Perhaps it was an after effect of having very little clothing in the... _bad times_. Or perhaps it was because it helped to make her feel more free.

Perhaps she just liked being naked.

Either way, despite having been trained by Gandalf to wear clothes in public, and to never answer the door naked, she does not have the same standard others do when it comes to clothing etiquette.

Like how many layers are appropriate.

Or that you shouldn't strip off in front of others.

And as though that wasn't unfortunate enough, she was also not bothered by her scars.

Now some of you may think, "Good for her! She shouldn't need to be afraid of how people view her physical body. She's still beautiful even with her scars." and this is _true_. The problem is that she doesn't understand what her scars represent.

She's never been told her scars are a bad thing, that they advertise the things she's been through. She's certainly never been told they make her "ugly". This is, actually, why Gandalf was so adamant she cover them up. He wanted her to always be exactly who she was, with no fear of what others would say of her appearance, for the world is full of cruelty.

But she didn't think of any of these things, as she never does, and so simply stepped out of bed, onto the cold stone floor, and dropped her dress.

Standing with her back to the boys, she knew that much was polite, in only a pair of smalls to cover her lower half, she magicked herself a long, golden dress.

The dress covered her back completely, clinging tightly to her torso before flaring out at her hips. It ended at the front at knee length, but the back went all the way to the floor. The sleeves were short, capped just past her shoulders, and in total, looked very beautiful.

She turned around with a smile, which immediately dropped as she met the horrified faces of Ori and Bilbo.

* * *

In the depths of Rivendell's grandest rooms, in an unassuming chair, sat an incredibly powerful being. A being of ancient years and awe-inspiring power.

She was Elven, and her two Elven handmaidens attended her as she relaxed into her seat, going over everything she needed to say at a meeting she was soon to attend.

Opposite this being, roared a great, golden fire, which was being tended by one of her maids. The second was gently pulling a brush through the being's long, platinum hair, humming softly as she did so.

The fire crackled and spat with life, and the first maid, whose long brown hair was kept back with small braids, moved to prepare her mistress' bath.

Like Magma, this being was also called "Witch". It was whispered by Men and Dwarves when they passed her lands, fear weighing heavily on their minds.

With the elves, she was revered. Her counsel often requested, but seldom given. She treated each individual being equally, helping those who truly deserved it, and turning away those who did not.

As Thorin Oakensheild and his company marched their way across the lands, she watched every scenario play out as it may. Some made her laugh, some made her cry. But she believed, as very few others believed, that this was the right choice.

Some things, however, are hidden, even to those such as her.

When Magma woke in Rivendell, the being's pale eyes flew open. Her breath caught in her throat, and she choked on it, gasping.

She'd not seen. She'd not _known_.

 _The Child...The Child..._

The Lady Galadriel stared at her hands, so pale against the rich tones of the stone floor. She did not recall falling from her chair, but did not dwell on that small detail. Seating herself once more, she watched scenes pass in a blur in front of her mind's eye.

She knew what had to be done next, she only prayed that she would be forgiven...

* * *

I hope you all enjoyed, and I have actually updated a few bits and pieces from previous chapters, most notably chapter 1, so feel free to pop back and give those another go!

And yeaaahhhh Lady Galad-ri-el! Drama may ensue...

See you soon my lovelies! Nerdy x


	8. Chapter 8 - Orcs and kisses

What'o? What could this be? Not...A _chapter?_ Heavens, it appears I decided to grace you with my literary drivel once again!

In all seriousness though, I've actually been working on this one for a while and I just had so many ideas that it took me a while to figure out how they'd all fit in! But here it is! Enjoy!

(Also it gets a tiny bit M in here, just saying, nothing horrendous but it's there)

Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all its characters belong to Sir Tolkein (With the exception of some of Peter Jacksons additions) I do not own the universe or the story, but the Main OC and any future OCs are mine.

* * *

Orcs: to Kiss, or Not to Kiss?

* * *

"Magma," Bilbo said, voice hushed in horror, "What happened to you?"

Now, the thing about scars, is that there are several varieties, and each has its own unique look and healing process that comes as a result of how the original wound was inflicted.

There are the "small flat ones", scars that form after smaller, more superficial injuries that stay flat and pale, and tend to pale further over time. Then there are "Keloid" scars, scars that will actually grow to be a bit larger than the original wound, raising above the skin as red-purple skin clusters that pale over time. They can be rubbery in texture, and are known to be uncomfortable.

The "Hypertrophic" scars are similar to "Keloid" scars, but stay within the size of the original wound, and are less painful and cumbersome. They too start as a red-pink colour and raise above the skin, but will flatten slightly and become paler over the course of a few years.

Finally, there are scars that shrink into the skin, giving it a pitted appearance, and scars caused by fire, where the skin seems to shrink against the skin, causing difficulty in movement.

The majority of Magma's scars were, really, unnoticeable. Unless you stared, they just looked like odd patches of skin. Most of them were flat, slightly off colour marks. Only a handful actually raised out of the skin in harsh lines.

Then, of course, were her runes.

Both a thing of beauty and a thing of terror, to stare too long at them was like looking into the face of both heaven and hell in the space of a moment. When Magma had first seen those markings over her shoulder as a child, she'd screamed so loudly she'd gagged and thrown what little food was left in her stomach over the floor.

 _Well,_ she thought, her eyebrows rising to her hair line, _at least they haven't started screaming. Or fainting._

Slowly, she lowered herself back onto the bed, curling her legs beneath her as she watched her friends. Her chest rose and fell with a deep, heavy sigh as her lips twisted into a wry pout.

"Did you really think powers like mine don't come with a cost?" She whispered, staring him straight in the eye. He deserved that much, she thought, to be treated with total honesty. From the corner of her eye she could see Ori, his journal, for once, lay forgotten in his hands as he perched on the bed.

At the sight of the dwarves big, blue eyes watering in sympathy, she felt her own sting, her nose clogging as she sniffed away the tears.

"Don't you start. If you cry I'll cry." She barked out, wiping her eyes roughly with the back of her hand. She sighed again.

"During the time I was...alone, I was captured," She worked through the lump in her throat, choking out, "tortured, and they forced this...magic into me. Magic I never had before. They had to carve it into my skin."

Her voice trailed off into a whisper, her eyes had shifted to stare over Bilbo's shoulder, and so she startled slightly when she felt a small, warm hand cover her own. Bilbo aimed a wobbly smile at her, and Ori wiped at his cheeks.

"Please...don't say anything. It's not that I'm ashamed or anything, I just..." she didn't quite know how to finish that sentence.

"It's none of our business." said Bilbo, voice soft but strong, "We wont mention a thing until you're ready." Ori nodded enthusiastically, finally picking up his journal to begin scribbling his notes, though they all saw his hand tremor slightly as he did.

Before Magma could voice her concerns over Ori's obvious distress, he had suddenly thrown himself across the bed, wrapping surprisingly strong arms around her shoulders, pressing her face into his neck, murmuring words she didn't understand into her hair.

Bilbo watched wide eyed, as Magma slowly wrapped her arms around Ori's waist, and crawled forward to rub soothing circles on her back, as he realised she had begun to cry.

Magmas' tears were hot and heavy with salt as they ran down her face, burning her eyes and causing an ache in the back of her throat as she quietly sobbed.

"We, ahem, we don't know what you're saying Ori..." said Bilbo quietly from over her shoulder, and she took comfort in the circles he rubbed into her back, easing the aches there.

"...we do not allow women to be treated this way. Dori always says the women are to be treated nicely. They are gifts. And...and if I ever find who did this I swear I'll...I'll give him a taste of Dwarvish Iron, right up his jacksie!" he declared, not pausing in his change from Khuzdul to Common.

Magma's sobs hiccuped as she laughed, before squeezing Ori's waist one last time and pulling away with a sigh, smirking again when she saw Bilbo's displeased moue.

"Quite."

* * *

After their abrupt hugging session, the Dwarf and Hobbit had busied themselves with clearing away the mess they'd made. Ori simply shrugged at the ink stain on the rich fabrics on the bed, bundling them up in his arms and throwing them upon the puddle on the floor, wiping them back and forth as though they were rags, then folding them rather neatly by the door.

 _Ready to give an unsuspecting Elven maid a heart attack, no doubt_ , thought Magma with an amused snort.

Bilbo, meanwhile, had collected all his lovely flowers into a vase and placed them on Magma's bedside, wiping away any piles of pollen with one of his handkerchiefs. Then placed his pressed pieces into the pocket of his jacket with a smile.

Magma came to the decision that it was time she braved the mirror, standing carefully and making her way to the large vanity mirror nestled in the corner of her room.

It was polished to a silvery shine, and rested in a frame that attached to a matching desk and chair. The frame and desk were crafted from deeply coloured Rosewood, which knotted and weaved about its frame, small flowers and animals carved delicately into the wood, peaking out from crevices, this too shone. The chair matched, though was cushioned by a cream silk pillow.

The desk itself was littered with various books, in Common and Elvish alike. She frowned distastefully when she recognised a heavy volume bound in rough leather; it was one that Lord Elrond had encouraged her to read many times, in order to learn Elvish. Unfortunately, the volume of elvish history was both large and superfluous, and she never made it more than a quarter of the way through. That she had also made friends with a pair of brothers who were always eager to get into mischief didn't help her studies either.

Small glass bottles filled with various hair oils and perfumes were arranged in a row in front of the mirror, as was a small doll, crafted in her likeness...with big, glass eyes...

 _Where's flopsy-bunny?_ The thought came, urgent and demanding, and she swung round, quickly spying her cloak, and the small bulge the stuffed animal made. It took all of her will power to lower herself into her seat, to not go and clutch the toy in her hands, feel it's soft fur...

 _Not now. Later, when I can look by myself._

As Magma sat down, she absent mindedly ran her fingers across a pink stain on the corner of the pillow where it rested near her thigh, the only evidence of a time when, young and rebellious, she'd snuck a glass of wine from the kitchen. She'd only managed to drink half the cup before spilling the liquid over herself, then falling asleep.

She'd never managed to completely clean the stain out.

Looking up, she stared hard into the mirror, seeing her two dear friends moving in the background, before focusing on herself.

She'd lost some weight, her cheekbones appearing harsh, and deep, dark circles hung below her eyes, so dark that even her tan couldn't hide them completely. Her skin had taken on a dark golden hue, and here she scrunched her nose; her tanned skin always reminded her of the colour of a cooked turkeys skin. Flicking her eyes to her forehead, she noticed a thin cut running from above her temple to her cheek bone, and sent a wave of light to heal that too.

She bit her lip at the thin, silvery line that took its' place, only now realising that the dwarves would have questions if they noticed, before shrugging the thought off.

 _I think it's about time I showed them what I can do._

Once happy with her check over, she was clean and comfortable, a strange, loud noise erupted through the room.

As Magma's stomach continued to growl its' displeasure, her hands flew to cover it, colour rising high on her cheeks as she turned to wince apologetically at her companions, who regarded her with amused smiles.

"Come along then, I believe it's time we had you fed, hm?"

* * *

Magma's new dress swished back and forth in a very pleasing manner, she found it to be quite enjoyable, feeling the soft fabric brushing against the backs of her legs as she skipped through Rivendell, leading her friends toward the dining area, where no doubt a vast array of fresh fruits and vegetables would be laid out for lunch.

Upon seeing said bounty, she darted forward, grabbing a peach and settling down on the bench, taking a bite and letting the sweet juice run down her chin, humming in pleasure as she did. She sent a smile to Thorin, who sat opposite her, then to the rest of the company situated on either side.

"Good morning boys!" She called out cheerfully, as Bilbo chuckled, settling himself down beside her and passing her a handkerchief. At her look of confusion, he mimed juice trailing down his chin and neck, and she wiped it away, pink cheeked.

Her cheerful greeting was met with a few replies, though not before Kili pointed out that it was, in fact, the afternoon.

Thorin and Dwalin simply nodded, Nori stared from his spot leant up against a pillar to the back of the company, his eyes hooded in the shadows as he watched her with an unreadable expression on his face.

Dori seemed to puff up in front of her from his place beside Dwalin. His mouth worked furiously, though no sound seemed to come out, as his cheeks grew first pink then red.

Magma watched wide eyed, head tilted in confusion, though she noticed Ori shrinking beside her, a whisper of 'oh no' on his lips.

"Um, start at the beginning, Dori?" She said gently.

"Your hair is down!" He exploded, causing everyone at the table to jump. The few not previously paying attention to their conversation certainly were now.

"Yes?" she said cautiously, taking another bite of juicy peach.

"That...it's...put it up!" he spluttered.

"No."

"But..."

"No, Dori." She laughed happily. "My hair's been up this whole time! I'll leave it down a little while, it's not hurting anyone." She smiled serenely, leaning her head back and closing her eyes to soak in the sunlight dappling through the leaves of the trees behind her. She'd suspected that an argument would occur over her hair, it's why she'd put it up to begin with.

From what she understood of Dwarven culture, which was really very little, they have a _thing_ about hair. Different braids mean different things, as does the different types of jewellery one would use as decoration in their hair. As well as that, they were often rather interested in others hair, having ideals to strive for in hair types, colour, thickness and such. Not that she knew what these ideals were or what any of it meant.

For her, it just meant keeping her hair in a bun so as to avoid it becoming a topic. But in Rivendell, she wanted it down and free to play in the wind. So down it was, the golden curls waving wildly, to the shock of all dwarves present, for bad or for good.

"What else is bothering you?" she asked.

"Your legs are on show!" he screeched.

 _Hm, I'll have to give him that one_.

Even at Rivendell, there were only a few elves that were comfortable with her strange ways of dressing.

"Ok, I'll wear a longer dress to dinner." She promised him, nodding. He breathed deeply seemingly satisfied, But Magma could sense there was more.

Not only had Dori yet to stop fidgeting, opening his mouth as though he was about to say something only to close it again and play with the lettuce on his plate, but other members of the company were also behaving oddly.

Thorin and Dwalin were staring at her with a hard look in their eyes, Fili and Kili kept exchanging knowing smirks, Gloin watched her with fiery eyebrows raised, fork hovering above his plate of untouched food.

Turning her attention to the table, she placed the pit of her peach on the edge of her plate, before piling it high with a selection of tomatoes, carrots, plums, apples, grapes, blackberries, and strawberries.

Plucking a large, ripe blackberry, she poised to put it in her mouth, but caught the eye of Balin. The elder Dwarf smile gently, nodding his head in the direction of the eldest Ri brother, and with a sigh Magma dropped the berry back onto her plate.

"What _is_ it Dori?" she snapped, feeling exasperated with the whole situation.

"Are you courting our brother?" snapped Nori from his post.

"Am I _what?"_ She squawked, twisting in her seat to stare at Nori.

"Yes, that's it, what's going on between you and our Ori?" Dori asked, seemingly having had found his voice after his brother took the lead.

"Me and Ori?" Magma parroted, dumbfounded. After all, how could they possibly think anything was happening between her and Ori?

"Yes! You've been exchanging gifts!"

"Gifts?"

 _Words Magma, use actual words._

"Aye, you have. Saw you give Ori that pretty pen he has there, right after he gave you one of his drawings!" contributed Kili, sending a devilish wink Magma's way.

That was when everyone started talking at once.

"Oh so it was you who started this nonsense!"

"Dwarves do not court this quickly!"

"Dwarves shouldn't court anyone from the race of man at all!"

"Ori's too young to court at any rate!"

"Well I think it's sweet..."

On and on they went, each voice louder than the last, whilst Ori and Magma sat in their little bubble of shocked silence. Magma's eyes locked on to Thorin's.

 _Oh Gods, by the Light, what does he think of all this...wait, why do I care?_

 _Because he's so pretty and manly and those arms are so strong and safe when they hold me - STOP IT MAGMA._

Thorin's eyes were the darkest she'd ever seen them before, his hands clenched into tight fists as he wrapped his arms about his chest, muscles in his jaw and arms jumping and ticking as his brows carved a deep 'V' in his head.

Magma shrank back from that gaze, the brightness of the courtyard where they were eating only served to make him appear darker, his features more severe.

Ori sat beside her, head bowed as he listened to his brother berate him for his apparently scandalous behaviour.

"...And you are not of age to be even thinking of marriage young Dwarrow! Miss Magma here should not be encouraging your...your...your lurid activities!" spat Dori, face almost purple. Magma's golden eyes widened as she took in his colour, the slight sheen of spittle on his lips as his chest heaved and the spoon bent in his hand from his grip.

Her bewildered eyes met Ori's frightened ones, and then the pair did something so terrible, so shocking, the whole incident was never brought up again.

They laughed.

* * *

The two had laughed, hard and loud, stunning the whole table into absolute silence. Those who'd been viciously lobbying that a Dwarf should marry whoever, and whatever, they wish turned with slight smiles, until they realised that this was not the laugh of two conspiring lovers.

Those who'd been arguing that not only was Ori too young, but it was hardly appropriate to allow mixing of bloodlines, had turned in anger at what they first assumed was the laugh of two young lovers, confident that they could face down their arguments.

However, the laugh both parties were met with was, in fact, the laugh of two friends, who couldn't believe how ridiculous the whole situation was.

Magma laughed until her sides hurt and tears ran down her face, and then laughed some more. Ori laughed behind his hand, hoping to avoid insulting anyone, when finally Magma choked out;

"We-we're not l-lov-ers!"

"You're not?" asked Nori, nuetrally, when it seemed that none of the dwarves were willing to speak.

"No, I promise you, we're not." replied Ori, cheeks still bright red from embarrassment and exertion from all his laughter.

"Then explain all the gifts you've been exchanging." Rumbled Thorin. Magma hiccuped one last time, before facing the Dwarven king very seriously, well, as seriously as she could with laughter still dancing in her eyes and making her cheeks stretch into an aching smile.

"Ori drew a picture of me that I liked, so he said I could keep it. So I made him a pen in return, because I wanted to. Not because I," She snorted, " am _interested_ in him."

She sighed as the last ache in her side soothed, then asked, eyebrow raised;

"Is that how your people court then?"

Thorin, still looking thoroughly pissed off, nodded once.

"Oh, well, neither of us saw it that way. Just friends giving out presents." she tilted her head to aim another smile Thorins' way, before picking up the plush blackberry once more, and popping it into her mouth.

* * *

The table remained silent for only a few minutes longer, before the usual cheerful chatter that one associates with dwarves started up again, the company seemingly happy to move on from The Courting Incident as though it had never occurred. What the company were not aware of, however, were the two Elves sitting in the tree above them, whom had seen the entire exchange, and were just waiting for their moment to strike.

They'd watched with warmth in their hearts as an old friend skipped her way over to the dwarvish gathering, content to sit and watch, noting the changes in their dear friend.

She'd grown taller, though not by much, as she was dwarvish in height, though she still had a slimness to her that Dwarrowdams could never accomplish. Her hair was longer too, her skin tanned to a opalescent glow.

Elladan and Elrohir sat side by side on tree branches, a bucket of cool water balanced between them as they held tight to it's handles, but they'd shared a look once they'd taken in the sight of their old friend.

She'd grown up.

The young elves felt a familiar pang in their chests at the sight. Despite their relative youth, they had already felt the sting of loss in their lives when their mortal play-friends grew up, grew old, and eventually died, all while they stayed the same. Seeing their beloved Magma growing this way was beyond words, but they'd always agreed to never let themselves become like the elders.

Some of the elder elves they knew refused to become involved with mortal beings, in any capacity, often seeing themselves as above them. But through the years, the twins knew they'd never trade away a moment of their time with their mortal friends, however brief.

And so it was with a shared, sad smile, they allowed their usual rebellious twinkle into their eyes, and tipped the bucket onto the unsuspecting girl below.

* * *

"You rotten little pointy eared little...little...GOBLINS IN ELVES CLOTHING!" Magma screeched to the branches above her.

The Courting Incident had not long been dealt with, and she had been quite happily picking her way through the bounty of fruit set out before her, when Magma felt an entire bucket of water land on her head.

The splash had served to soak not only Magma, but Ori and Bilbo as well. The water had caused a small tidal wave to spread across the table, knocking plates and bowls of fresh fruit everywhere. Small puddles gathered daintily on the tables polished wooden surface, small pieces of blackberry and strawberry acting as islands in amongst the mess and mayhem the elves had started. Magma tried desperately to push the soaking mass of her hair, now heavy with moisture, from her face so she could better glare at the culprits.

As if she wouldn't know who they were.

As she finally managed to push all of her dripping curls over her shoulders to run down the back of her dress, she locked eyes with Thorin once again, finding to her horror, that he had also received some of the tidal wave of water.

Water dripped from his hair, off of the bridge of his nose, and the front of his shirt was also damp. She turned her gaze to the rest of the table to find Dwalin in a similar state, though his eyes were focused on the spot in the branches were the impromptu waterfall had been released.

As Magma twisted in her seat, intending to face the trees at her back, her gaze was snared with Thorin's, and as they met, she felt her heart skip a beat, seeming to drop to thump in her stomach for a moment rather than her chest.

His eye's were fixed on her face, head tilted down so that he peered from under his lashes and brows, blue eyes dark and burning. His forearms lay against the table with his fists clenched as he stared at her, water dripping from his braids to create little spots of moisture along his shirt.

Her heart and lower stomach beat in rhythm, and she felt her breath ghosting over her lips faster than before. Her tongue darted out to catch a stray drop of moisture that ran across her lip, and her eyes widened when Thorin's fists clenched tighter, his eyes burning into her own.

A shout from Bofur broke whatever spell Magma had been under and she turned to see a pair of brown haired elves reclining lazily across the lower branches, where they had certainly been bare before.

" _Cormamin lindua ele lle, C_ _ó_ _ldes!"_ Called one, smirking as he reclined with both arms behind his head, ankles crossed as he seemed to relax in the branches.

 _"Malia ten' yulna?"_ Laughed the second, his brunette locks drifting through the air as he hopped from his branch to lean back against the trunk of the tree, mimicking his brothers crossed ankles, though he chose to cross his arms in front of his chest.

"Elladan! Elrohir! _Tanya nae_ _ **sai**_ _eina, auta miqulla orqu!"_ Magma snapped sharply, glaring up at the elves, fire in her eyes.

"What are they saying? Do they offer us further insult, after they've already tried to drown us?" called Dori, wiping fussily at his clothing whilst leaning over to fuss at Dori's hair, tutting at the state the water had left it in.

The brothers only grinned, the sight of the slightly damp and angry dwarves did nothing to quell their enjoyment of seeing Magma so bedraggled.

* * *

The afternoon was not going in Thorin's favour. He and Gandalf had argued into the night about whether or not to show the map to Lord Elrond this evening, and the lack of sleep had left him irritable. That their hosts were elves made his mood no better, everywhere he looked there was something elvish; elvish tables, elvish cutlery, elvish artwork, elvish music, and worst of all, actual elves.

At one point during the night he'd stopped at the elvish healing houses to see how their witch was faring, and had been taken aback to find Bilbo and Ori snoring in two of the chairs placed in the room. He'd been shocked at Ori's presence, as he'd have though Dori would have tracked him down and dragged him away long before. As for the halfling...

His steps had been as quiet as dwarvishly possible, which even he could admit didn't amount to much, but she didn't stir at his approach. At first, Thorin had intended to only stop in to see her and then leave but...

He'd taken a seat at her side.

"I gather," he whispered, "That there are some things about you I do not know. For example, I was not aware that you were so acquainted with the elves that you would have your own room." Despite his attempts to gentle his voice, he couldn't help how it roughened with displeasure when he thought of the Elf lord's face when she was carried in, how he'd gathered Magma into his own arms the way a father would hold his daughter...

He sighed.

"But I find I cannot... _fault_ you for it. Not entirely anyway. But we _will_ be having a very serious discussion when you've awoken." He paused a moment, staring at her face, an unusually tender look in his eyes.

Then his jaw clenched once more, and he stood from his chair almost too fast, turning from the room without a backwards glance.

He was not a tender person, he'd not been afforded the luxury after the fall of Erebor. There were very few who'd seen Thorin at his softest, in fact he could count them on one hand. He was the leader of his people, it was his duty to keep them safe and well cared for, and such burdens left no room for weaknesses that could be exploited.

And yet he couldn't help himself, couldn't help the dreams of her, both sleeping and waking, couldn't help how he wanted to pull her into his arms until all her light shone over him. Until only he could hear her laugh and feel it wash over his soul.

And now...

Firstly there was The Courting Incident. At the sight of Ori and Bilbo escorting Magma to the table, he'd been unable to push down the slight jump of envy in not having been there when she awoke. But that slight stab was pushed down quickly at the sight of what she was wearing.

There'd been many _incidents_ on this trip wherein more of her body had been on show than could be considered politely appropriate, and Thorin thought he'd traced each curve in his mind often enough to be able to have made a perfect picture of her body type.

But this _dress_...

It hugged her curves, covering her chest modestly but still hinting at what lay beneath the folded, shimmering fabric. Her long, pale legs were on show, slender feet were bare also as she skipped her way to the table. Thorin had been completely unable to stop himself from tracing a path up her bare legs, and found that he was unable to eat any more of the food the Elves had laid out for them.

 _Not that you could call this food,_ he thought bitterly.

Crossing his arms he aimed for mild displeasure, drowning out all the chatter as he caught Dwalin's eye, shocked when he realised his old friend had copied his stance.

That's when all the shouting about Ori and Magma courting began.

At first he was incandescent with rage, not trusting himself to speak. Had he not said that bringing a woman on their quest would bring nothing but trouble? That she would be a distraction to his men? That she had somehow managed to seduce their youngest member...his fists clenched so hard the whiteness of his knuckles could be seen though his skin. This could not go on, it could not be allowed that some witch from the race of man could partner with a Dwarf!

 _Despite how desperately you wish to partner with her?_ Whispered a voice in the back of his mind. He stamped it out, refusing to entertain, for even a moment, the idea that he could be _jealous_ of Ori.

When it had been explained, he had relaxed, though it felt as though it had only been for a moment, when out of no where, a great volume of water fell from the tree's to soak them all.

Magma clearly had the brunt of it, seeing as she was situated below the branches from where the water came, but the majority of the Dwarves seated about her were drenched as well.

The tidal wave crashed over the table, dislodging plates and food alike. All whilst Thorin, Dwalin, Dori, Ori, and Balin dripped with the water soaking into their hair, beards, and clothes.

Thorin struggled to notice any of this however, as he sat transfixed by the sight of Magma. Soaking. Wet.

Her shimmering golden dress had become near transparent with liquid, the flowing folds that had kept it modest now clung to every curve of her body. Despite the chill water, he felt his blood heating at the sight of her, and when she lifted her arms to push away the mass of unexpectedly curly hair...

 _Mahal!_ he swore to himself, when he could see her nipples pushing taut against the wet fabric of her chest, _Not mere moments ago I had thought that dress almost modest_!

When she turned, he caught her eye, attempting to hide his desire from her, wanting her to believe he was angry. But even as he watched, her breathing grew heavier, eyes blown wide and he knew he had failed in hiding his want.

But she had also failed in hiding hers.

He nearly groaned aloud when her little pink tongue darted out to chase the water gathering on her lips, his mind filled with scenarios where it was his tongue chasing that droplet, and the droplets running down her neck, and between her...

The spell broke when she turned away to scream at the tree's, and he was not the only one shocked to find that where there had been empty branches, were now a pair of identical elven men.

He tensed when the three conversed back and forth in Elvish, though noted with some satisfaction that she appeared to be telling the two off. A breeze drifted through, and he noted they all shivered in the sudden cold as it chilled the water further.

"What are they saying? Do they offer us further insult, after they've already tried to drown us?" Shouted Dori, and Thorin felt his hands clench impossibly tighter where they rested against the wooden surface of the table, was it not enough that they had been dragged to Rivendell, like beggars at the door? Were they to be treated as a joke also? The thought did nothing to calm his temper.

"The only one they're here to bother is me!" replied Magma, sounding thoroughly unimpressed.

"Cóldes! Your pronunciation was terrible, wait until father hears you!" called the Elf in the tree.

"I think Lord Elrond would be more concerned to learn that his sons have taken to soaking his guests!" Spat Magma, reaching for the remains of two pears, throwing one at each Elf. The one in the tree dodged easily, falling from his branch to land softly beside who, Thorin guessed, must be his brother. The second simply ducked, the pear hitting the tree trunk in the spot where his head had previously rested.

"You had to know this was coming! After what you pulled with the eggs when you were last here!" Called the other Elf.

This was truly giving Thorin a headache, he could feel it brewing by his temple as they continued to talk, the pair of Elves were so identical, more so than any other Elves he'd seen so far.

They both dressed in green tunics over light silver mail, with dark brown leggings under knee high brown boots. Both had long brown hair worn loose except for the thin braids at either temple. Accustomed to life on the road, Thorin could see that the boots, despite their quality and condition, were well worn, as were the clothes. The pair also each had one knife strapped to the inside of their boots, he could see the tell tale bulge, as well as a longer knife on each hip. These two were warriors, at the very least they were accustomed to travelling the road alone.

"That was only because of what you did with the dresses!"

"That was because of what you pulled with the boots!" called the same Elf.

"Enough!" Called the original, "We'll be at this all day! Cóldes, wont you introduce us to your friends?" His smile was soft and charming, and Thorin ground his teeth when he came forward to press his hand against the crown of Magma's head, running it back along her hair.

He could hear Magma's heavy sigh.

"Company, this is Elladan," she introduced, indicating to the Elf who still had his hand on the top of her head, "and Elrohir." Here, she waved her hand to the other elf, who had pushed himself away from the tree and strolled gently towards them.

"These are Lord Elronds sons," she stated, "and you two have probably already heard of this lot, so I wont bother."

The Elf, _Elladan_ , finally took his hand from Magma's head, and the pair both executed a bow with hands over their hearts, before pushing their hands in the direction of the dwarves.

"What do you both want anyway?" she snapped.

"We have come, fair Cóldes, to steal you away from your companions for the day!" said the elf, _Elrohir_ , dropping to one knee, arms spread wide.

Magma watched the Elf, arms crossed over her still dripping clothing with one eyebrow raised at his theatrics. There was a tense moment where Thorin thought she would go with them, and his stomach rolled at the idea that she would seek out the company of Elves of the company of her travelling companions. A sudden flash of horror hit him, _what if she is courting one of these Elves_?

"No, thank you. I'll stay here with my Dwarves I think." She said, swivelling fully into her seat, back to the elves.

He caught her eye for a brief moment, a small smile gracing his own lips. And then the worst thing of the day happened.

The Elf on the floor leapt up, wrapping his arms about her waist. He flung her over the shoulder of the other elf, and the two began running.

"If you wont come willingly, we shall have to kidnap you!" He crowed, as they disappeared around the corner.

The last they heard was Magma's furious voice screaming "Put me DOWN!" and then all was silent.

The dwarves looked at one another, wide eyed, muttering amongst themselves about what, exactly, they were meant to do. Inside Thorin's mind, a flashfire had gone off, and he stood so fast the table scraped back from him.

"Find her!" he roared. She was a member of his company, and he would not allow the Elves to run off with her.

The company scrambled from their places, running off in the direction the two Elves had taken. Only Dwalin and Balin remained at the Dwarf kings side.

"Eh," Began the white haired Dwarf, "Lad..."

"I know Balin, I know." Thorin could feel himself deflating, as though all his energy had run out, even as his hands still twitched and clenched at the mental image of Magma being thrown over the shoulder of the Elf. If he'd been irritated before, he was far worse now, his fatigue from Gandalfs' badgering letting itself show in the slight slump to his shoulders and the bags beneath his eyes.

"Ne'er thought I'd see the day you got so worked up over a woman, Thorin." Commented Dwalin, his voice rough, though Thorin recognised the slight humour beneath it. He clearly thought the whole situation was funny.

"I am _not_ worked up." he muttered, spitting his words out from between clenched teeth, "I am tired. And that girl is more trouble than she's worth. When we make to leave Rivendell...we will be leaving her here." When Balin spluttered, as though he'd argue against the matter, Thorin turned away; searching for his room so that he might finally get some rest.

"And that shall be the end of it!"

* * *

OOoooooooooooooooooooooooooo Thorin is piss- _y_! I kind of get the feeling that not a lot happened in this chapter, but that a lot did at the same time? Ah well, the stage is being set my lovelies! So I'm going to continue writing the next chapter through my sleepless nights!

I wonder what will happen?

As always, reviews feed me.

So, I had a struggle finding Elven translations and I grew slightly concerned that I'd found an Elvish dictionary that was not, you know, _Tolkein_ Elvish but I dunno the difference to be honest (Was never good with languages) anyway, it seemed close enough so I apologise if I got any of the translations wrong.

* * *

 _Cóldes_ \- Magma's Elven name, meaning: _Gold [young woman]_

 _Cormamin lindua ele lle - My heart sings to see thee_

 _Malia ten' yulna - Care for a drink?_ (For those unfamiliar with sarcasm, they were taking the Michael out of her. For those who don't know what "Taking the Michael" means, to Urban dictionary with you!)

 _Tanya nae_ _ **sai**_ _eina, auta miqulla orqu! - That was **very** funny, go kiss an Orc!_ (this is where they criticize her, as I imagine nuances in tone to imply sarcasm would be difficult in their dialogue, also, just slapping "Go kiss an Orc" on the end rather than "Why don't you go kiss an Orc" seems lazy and like something a tourist who doesn't quite know the language would say.)

\- Nerdy xx


	9. Chapter 9 - A Not So Comfortable Rest

Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all its characters belong to Sir Tolkein (With the exception of some of Peter Jacksons additions) I do not own the universe or the story, but the Main OC and any future OCs are mine.

So the first little bit is kinda smutty, I've never written love scenes before so I'm easing my way into it. Enjoy!

* * *

A Not So Comfortable Rest

* * *

Thorin knew it was a dream.

He vividly remembered being close to those thrice damned elves, and even in his sleep he could feel the tension running through his body at being so close to the beings that had so betrayed his race, betrayed _him_.

He knew it was a dream when he saw the snowflakes; fat and heavy, they fell in glorious, swirling patterns he hadn't seen since his childhood. Only the Lonely mountain could produce such soft, delicate crystals that would float in the air like these.

And there he was, standing on the landing of his room, the room at his back lit up in burning oranges and reds of the late night fire; the world ahead of him hidden in the deepening dark as the falling flakes mingled with the stars in the sky as he looked up, coming to rest upon his cheeks and lashes.

He knew it was a dream, because _she_ was there.

She walked towards him, appearing as a mirage from the thick snow, and yet not a flake rested on her body.

Her golden dress, _the_ golden dress, hung so delicately across her body, framing every hidden dip and curve. He watched, frozen, spellbound as her full lips lifted into such a soft smile.

And then she was under him, those pillow soft lips crushed beneath his own as he ravaged her, swallowing her gasps and breathy moans with all the greed of a man starved for days, nay, weeks. His hands never stilled, grasping at the silken dress only to shove it up over her legs to run his calloused palms over their softness. Her legs lifted and wrapped around his hips, grasping tightly as her body lifted from the ground to press harder against him, hips pressing firmly into his own, causing them to buck.

A small wine escaped him as he pulled his lips from hers with great reluctance. Looking down at her, he drank her in. The way her eyes sparkled like the gold that would flow like rivers in the forges of his fore-fathers, heated now in a way he'd never thought to see them, the lids drooped with lust. Her skin pale, not as the snow around them, but with a cream like sheen he'd once seen in the pearls his grandmother like to wear. Her hair flailed in an invisible wind, tangling the strands with his own, connecting them in a web of dark and light. He felt his heart thump painfully in his chest as his eyes filled.

"Azbadu men," he stuttered, "Gajut men."

His hips flexed into her own, grinding himself into her warmth on instinct. His breath hissed from between his teeth, clouding in the cold air as his muscles shook from the cold.

"For what?" she giggled beneath him, the movement jarring, causing him to cry out involuntarily as he felt her body move against his from his hips to his chest, like a long, languorous caress.

He dropped his head to the crook of her neck, breathing deeply of her warm, fresh scent that was always so near.

 _This is a dream,_ he thought to himself, _I can allow myself this_. And so he wrapped his arms about her and shifted, kneeling in the soft snow, he draped her across his lap, wanting to feel the warm weight of her as he suckled her neck. Gently at first, then with more vigour as she wriggled and mewled in his lap. Biting down experimentally, he pulled back to lick at the hurt when she jumped and pulled away with a small cry, content to be gentle.

"Why are we here?" she asked, her voice small and timid. He pulled back again to look her in the eye, she seemed so small, so afraid. That would not do, not while she was in his arms.

"Men eleneku menu o bepap opetu ezirak." he murmured softly against her lips, claiming them as his own once more. He felt a fever rising beneath his skin at her every tentative touch; her hands as they gripped his shoulders, the small nails scratching against his tough skin before they moved to his hair. Her small fingers worked through every tangle with ease, running through over and over again while he hummed in appreciation, unable to keep the small smile off of his face.

"Watch me burn." she whispered in his ear. Thorin pulled back in shock, blue eyes clashing with gold. Her eyes were no longer warm and inviting, now they were hot. Molten.

He cried out as she dispersed through his fingers, reaching for her only to fall forward into a pile of gold.

Gold.

It was everywhere.

Mountains upon mountains of gold twinkled in the firelight, reflections of gold bounced from the stone walls and the high arch of the ceiling. Erebor.

He knew these rooms, the treasure trove of Thror!

He remained kneeling, staring at the gold, rubies, diamonds! All of it, all of it was his...

He grasped a handful and watched, mesmerised as they fell through his fingers, flipping through the air so slowly. Two coins seemed to float in the air in front of his face, their surfaces dancing and flowing like they were melting. They laughed at him, and it was with Magmas voice.

"Tell me, King under the mountain..." the coins shifted, throwing him off balance as they al seemed to speak at once with _her_ voice.

"What wouldn't you do..." And there she was, her soft weight pressing him down into the coins and jewels as she straddled his lap. Her smile was soft, but her eyes were still burning brighter than dragons fire. Thorin felt his heart jump in his chest, as though it had fallen to his stomach, and an unbearable clenching in his thighs as the molten heat seemed to swim through his veins to his crotch. He grabbed her hips once again, pulling her down he grasped the back of her upper thigh as he laved and nipped his way along the column of her throat.

"To have this." she breathed against his ear.

Then she was gone again, and a great eye, yellow and red stared down at him. All at once the coins were too much as he scrambled away, slipping and flailing, only to land at Magmas' feet. He looked up, and there was that smile, so soft. But those eyes...they were still burning, they were too hot, they were searing his soul.

The wyrm slithered his way around, until all Thorin could see was a wall of thick, red scales. The beasts breath hissed out, spitting and growling, as its eye finally came to rest behind Magma.

"Watch me burn?" she asked, her voice soft. And as the dragon roared, he watched Magma dance in the flames.

* * *

Thorin cried out as he jerked awake, his brow stained with sweat as his chest heaved as though he'd just finished a sparring session. Rubbing a heavy, but shaking, hand over his brow, he collapsed back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling.

The room the elves had given him was grand, and could be considered masculine - for an elf. The stone was the same pale grey as most of Rivendell, and the curtains were still light and flowy. At least the furnishings made the room more masculine.

A large fireplace dominated one end of the room, the stone it was carved from depicted forestry and flowers, but the sharp edges and large grate meant Thorin could forgive that. The tables and wash basin were, thankfully, bare of any decoration. All the wooden elements of the room were a deep brown, polished to a high shine. The king-sized four poster bed Thorin currently reclined on had heavy, yet soft, drapes and covers in dark browns and maroons. The cold stone floor was mostly covered by a thick maroon rug, though this also had flowery pictures embroidered in. The main redeeming feature, however, was the large bath set off to one side. Bare brass, it had no silly prettiness added on, but was large and deep, and Thorin had already made good use of it - twice.

Turning his tired gaze to the window, Thorin was shocked to see that the sun was beginning to set, and so climbed reluctantly out of bed.

As he washed his face at the water basin built into a table next to the bath, he contemplated his dream.

 _Or was it a nightmare?_

If he relaxed, he thought he could still feel Magma's skin, still smell her hair...

Still see her burn.

So lost in his own thoughts, he jumped when a knock came at the door, spilling water all over the floor. Sighing in annoyance, he chucked a towel over the puddle before striding over to answer.

"Balin." he greeted, nodding his head before moving aside to allow the older dwarf in.

"I think it's time," Balin began, moving into Thorins room, pulling a chair from beside the bed, "We had a little chat lad." he said, taking a seat.

Thorin's lip quirked as he set about getting dressed for the "meeting" with the elf lord.

"Is that so? And what about?"

"Magma."

Thorin paused in the process of pulling on his blue shirt. Magma. The girl seemed to be haunting his every waking, and now dreaming, moment, was he to get no peace from her?

"Has she been found?" he asked, pulling the rough item over his head, then reaching for his armour plated vest.

"No." said Balin, reluctantly, "But there's no doubt she's safe, these people are her friends."

"They're elves." Thorin spat, feeling his anger rise at the memory of the flirtatious pair that had run off with his witch. "And she is a member of _my_ company. I'll not have her running off, let alone _taken_."

Shrugging on his sleeveless blue undercoat, he turned at last to face his friend. Balins snowy white brows had risen up his face in bemusement.

"And yet, you want her left behind?" he asked.

 _Watch me burn?_

"Yes."

"Why?" Balin pushed. Thorin knew he was up to something, after something, he just didn't know what.

"Because she's proven to be of no use. She'll only slow us down." He said, voice hard.

"Really? I think she's been very useful." Said Balin conversationally, relaxing back in his chair as his king began to pace irritably.

"How? She's been a nuisance, arguing with the wizard, passing out, and now disappearing altogether!"

"Well let's see shall we? She always let us know when the sun would be going down. She set up a very powerful perimeter to protect us from the orcs - something you demonstrated rather well I think?" he paused with a smirk.

Yes, Thorin winced as he remembered the sudden pain in his eyes that morning.

"What else? Oh yes, she helped Bilbo stall those trolls until the sun came up. As for the passing out episode, that was hardly her fault. And then, when she did come round, she displayed some very commendable bravery in helping the company escape the orcs with her magic. Even used a knife."

Thorin had stopped his pacing, and now stood, taut as a bow string with tension as Balin continued to list the ways Magma had assisted them since she'd joined the quest.

"And those are just the things that'd count as combat. Let us not forget her help with the cooking, the cleaning, and that she managed to pack up the whole camp and carry it to us whilst we were being tied up in sacks." Not once was Balin's voice condescending. Just calm, as he gently pointed out the facts, the way Balin always does.

"The road is going to get harder from here laddie, and I can't help but be thinking we'll need her."

Thorin turned, blue eyes blazing as the bore into Balin's.

"She's a distraction." he choked out.

"Only for you." Balin replied, voice soft, "And only for as long as you keep ignoring her, ignoring _this_."

Thorin's heart skipped a beat at what Balin implied.

"You think she's my One?" He whispered.

Balin simply stared, the setting sun casting shadows over his face that made him look infinetly older and wiser as he waited for Thorin to accept what he'd already known.

Thorin turned sharply, grabbing his belt and securing it into place.

"Then she must stay here." he said, strength returning to his voice now he understood. The dreams, the way he watched her, the anger and jealousy. Balin was right.

"Thorin!" Balin cried, aghast, "You cannot think to leave her behind! We'll need her, and she'd never forgive us if we did!"

"I will send for her once Erebor is reclaimed." Thorin stated, tucking the map into a breast pocket.

"Thorin..."

"Khuzd tada bijebî âysîthi mud oshmâkhî dhi zurkur ughvashâhu!" Thorin roared, slamming his fist down onto the table, "Is that not the way we are? Is that not what we are taught?"

He stared the elder dwarf down, though Balin didn't waver.

"I cannot keep her safe on the road."

Balin could see it in his kings eyes, the urge to protect. It was strong in Thorin in a way he'd never seen; it's what made him a good king. And so he shook his head sadly, and made for the door.

"She would never forgive you, Thorin. If you leave her behind, why would she ever come back?"

And with that, he closed the door.

* * *

Bilbo had spent the whole day running around Rivendell with the company, trying to find their wayward friend. Part of him rather enjoyed it, the opportunity to see so much of the elven city. But whenever they entered a new room, it was only mere moments before they were forced out again on their desperate search.

So far Bilbo had seen; 3 kitchens (Bombur didn't want to leave), 5 Libraries (they had to drag Ori out), several rooms that appeared to just hold beautiful nick-nacks on shelves (they kept a close eye on Nori in those), 4 armouries (Dwalin and Fili hesitated before leaving) and 7 gardens! How Bilbo longed to return to those beautiful gardens and note down every flower blooming in there!

And really, why were they chasing around after Magma? It was clear she knew those elves, was obviously their friend, but it seemed no one was willing to argue with Thorin when he used _that_ tone of voice.

Presently, the group were leaning up against a wall, or collapsed on the floor, panting like dogs in the dying light.

"I give up!" wailed Kili, "We'll never find her in this labyrinth!"

"Hush nadadith!" scolded Fili, "Uncle said find her, so we'll find her! They can't have gone too far..."

"When I next see yer uncle..." murmured Dwalin under his breath dangerously.

"Oh come on lads! It's not been too bad, really." called Bofur, though his voice wasn't as enthusiastic as usual.

The sound of laughter caused Bilbo's head to snap up, though the dwarves ignored it completely. Throughout their search, they'd come across several groups of elves, though the dwarves had never paused to ask for directions, and whenever Bilbo tired, the nearest dwarf simply pulled him along.

Peaking quietly round the corner, Bilbo was elated to see a trio of Elven ladies walking their way.

Taking a breath, he stepped into their path whilst the dwarves were too busy complaining, making the tallest of the three jump.

Bilbo found himself flushing red under the gaze of the three curious ladies, especially since their skin seemed to glow in the fading sunlight, and their eyes were so gentle and kind as they smiled down at him.

"Lle anta amin tu?" asked the one who'd jumped, her pale brown hair waving in the breeze as she smiled at the gaping Hobbit.

He shook himself, scolding himself internally for his total breach of manners.

 _Tiredness is no excuse for rudeness, Bilbo Baggins!_

"I'm...I'm very sorry to disturb you, it's just, I've misplaced a friend and was wondering, really, if you wouldn't mind helping me?"

"But of course mister Baggins, who is it you search for?" Said the blonde to the left.

"Y...you know my name?" he stammered in shock.

"But of course," replied the first, "Everyone in The Valley knows of the Dwarves and their Hobbit companion. Is it one of the Dwarves you search for?"

"No, no. They're not exactly hard to miss, doubt they could get lost if they tried. No, I'm looking for Magma, uh, Coldes? Two elves ran off with her hours ago and we just can't find her!"

The trio laughed, and Bilbo stood, dumbfounded at the sound.

"Ah, Coldes, no doubt Eladdan and Elrohir are behind her disappearance!" Laughed the tallest.

"You're very close, they always go to the same place whenever Coldes visits." Agreed the blonde.

"Try around this corner, straight ahead, and then go down the first set of stairs to your right." Said the third, "Go all the way to the bottom, and follow the gravel path to the wildflower field, they'll be there, there's a Willow tree by a small creek; look under it." and with a trio of identical smiles, the elvish maidens nodded their heads, and continued on their way.

"Thank you!" Called Bilbo, who was already running back around the corner to tell the dwarves where they could finally find their wayward friend.

* * *

Magma had missed the twins immensely, and had secretly rejoiced in the opportunity to sit in their favourite meeting spot and catch up on all they'd missed since they'd last seen each other. Though she'd made them work for that confession, having sat and sulked in her wet dress for almost an hour before tackling the pair of them with hugs.

They'd exchanged tales and discussed old memories, they'd eaten fresh fruit from nearby bushes, they'd woven flower crowns from the willow branches and the beautiful flowers that grew in the field beside. They'd splashed and paddled briefly in the creek, and now lay side by side to watch the sun set through the long, waving branches.

It was bliss.

"So, Coldes, Sut an?" asked Elladan, his voice light.

"Sut an?" repeated Magma, "What do you mean?"

"The Dwarven King, Coldes!" exclaimed Elrohir, "How long has _that_ been going on?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." she laughed, though she couldn't fight the blush rising to her cheeks.

"Yes you do! You can't deny the way you two were staring at each other over the table." Taunted Elrohir.

"Oh shut up." She snapped. The pair only laughed at her churlishness, sitting up to watch as the last few rays of light disappeared over the horizon.

Magma sighed, leaning over to rest her head on Elladans shoulder; grateful that both elves had taken off their coats and mail to sit under the tree.

Unbeknownst to her, the entire company of dwarves, including its' leader, were almost at the wildflower fields. It was not, however, a surprise to the twins, as they could hear the marching and complaining of the company. Throwing one another a mischievous grin, Elladan leapt to his feet.

"Arwenamin Coldes, Lle merna salk?" he asked, bowing theatrically with his hand outstretched. Magma laughed joyously when she felt Elrohir pushing her towards his brother, and so she stepped comfortably into his arms as he twirled her about the wild flowers.

With a sigh, she released hundreds of tiny lights to dance and blink lazily amongst the tall grasses, and to float softly above their heads as the elves took turns whirling her through the gentle grass.

When at last she noticed the company, who stood gob-smacked on the gravel path, she was too drunk on magic and happiness to notice the way Thorins hands clenched and un-clenched at his sides.

"My friends!" she laughed, "Come dance with us!" and she twirled away from the elves to grasp Bilbo and Ori by the hands, whilst waving the others to join her. And as, one by one, they slowly caught up in her contagious enthusiasm, Magma began to sing.

"Kiss me out of the bearded barley

Nightly, beside the green, green grass

Swing, swing, swing the spinning step

You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress

Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor, lift your open hand

Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance

Silver moon's sparkling, so kiss me

Kiss me down by the broken tree house

Swing me upon its hanging tire

Bring, bring, bring my flowered hat

We'll take the trail marked on your father's map

Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor, lift your open hand

Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance

Silver moon's sparkling, so kiss me..."

When she looked up to see all of her friends dancing in the grass, the lights floating like the fireflies in the song, her eyes caught onto Thorins'.

In the past, their eyes had always met with a suddenness she could feel all the way down to her toes, they'd clash and her body would come alive with tingles. Whenever their eyes' had met before, she'd never exactly known what she was feeling, the looks he'd give were so dark, so intense.

But when she looked into his eyes, she didn't feel that all encompassing heat. Instead, her heart seem to stall in her chest, and then burst in a thousand colours. So she smiled, as wide as she could, so wide her cheeks hurt, and she laughed with pure joy, as she felt the absolute peace of this moment.

But she knew it wouldn't last. It never does.

* * *

The company danced along the edge of the universe for a moment, spinning through that point in time where everything seemed to go too fast and too slow all at once. They danced with the lights, and the stars fell down to twirl with them, for here were all the races, in true peace; human, elf, and dwarven feet pounded the ground with nary a thought to their prejudices.

They danced for what felt like hours, but it was scarcely half an hour before Thorin called them back to earth and gathered them all together, leading them back to where the group had forged themselves a camp on one of Elronds terraces. Magma felt her eyes bulge at the sight of burning furniture that'd been pushed to form a camp fire, and she winced at the thought of Lindir's face when he eventually found it.

The group all sat together for a while, the dwarves had somehow managed to find some sausages, much to the elves disgust, and Magma had been nibbling on the end of one, too full from gorging herself on berries to really enjoy the taste.

Not long after Elladan and Elrohir left, complaining in Elvish to Magma that the smell of meat was making their stomachs roll, did Gandalf the Grey finally make an appearance. He'd hustled a small group together for Thorins meeting with Lord Elrond, having to wake Bilbo to do so.

"Magma will be joining us also." he quickly stated, his distracted tone leaving no room for argument as he began leading the group to yet another one of Lord Elronds terraces - Magma knew that each had a name, but she'd never bothered to remember them all. In truth, she was tired. Exhausted from the use of her light to heal herself, and then the silly playfulness she'd exhibited in the fields.

All she really wanted to do was crawl into the soft, warm bed and sleep until the first rays of sunlight hit her again. Oh, she could hold out if she wanted to, but, well, she didn't want to.

And so she didn't really pay attention to the discussion between Gandalf and Lord Elrond, content to lean against a cool stone pillar and let the dwarves worry about their business.

She heard things like "stubbornness of dwarves" and "Moon Runes", and then they were moving again.

 _Egh. Can't we just sleep? Why does everything with Thorin have to happen right now, if not five minutes ago?_

They arrived at what Magma fondly nick-named the Moon Cave, an opening into the side of the mountains where the moon could shine in all through the night, the light reflecting all through the cavern, and refracting through the waterfall that tumbled down over the opening. During the day time, it was a place she often enjoyed sitting, watching the light sparkle in the spray, seeing the little rainbows that rippled in the air as the sunlight shone through.

Her lips curled into a smirk as she remembered that if you shimmied your way through a small crevice to the left hand side of the entrance, and then squeezed your way through a slightly larger one that opened up just beyond that, you could find a large collection of elven boots. From the time Gandalf first brought her to stay with the elves, she'd had an ongoing practical joke competition with Elladan and Elrohir. She couldn't entirely remember what they'd done, but she'd retaliated by stealing a single boot from each pair every day that she'd stayed. 2 weeks; 2 weeks means 14 single shoes from each brother, they'd taken to complaining that they had very few shoes left that actually matched, and often begged her to return the stolen items. They'd never managed to figure out just where she'd hidden them; and their graceful, yet large frames would never be able to crawl through the gaps in the stone to retrieve their boots, not that they ever thought of it.

They'd retaliated by undoing the stitching on all of her dresses, very carefully, so that they'd fall off her about halfway through the day. They didn't know at the time that nakedness didn't bother Magma, and had been horrified to find that, once the dresses had kept falling off, she'd decided to just walk around naked the whole day.

"...by the light of a crescent moon nearly 200 years ago."

 _Focus Magma, this is, you know, important and stuff._

"It would seem you were meant to come to Rivendell," spoke the elf Lord, flattening the map out onto a large table carved from crystal, "Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield; the same moon shines upon us tonight."

And with that, everyone turned their eyes to the sky, where the moon hung behind some light clouds. These clouds, quite conveniently, drifted away, allowing the moonlight to shine down upon the parchment.

Magma's eyes widened with interest as she looked at the worn map, flicking a glance over to Thorin to gauge his reaction. He'd moved slightly closer to the elf, subconsciously trying to get a better look at his grandfathers map; so enthralled, and a little shocked, by the revealed lettering that his apparent revulsion seemed to take a side seat; if only for a moment.

"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durins day will shine upon the key hole..." with a concerned flash in his eyes, Lord Elrond began folding up the map.

"Durins day?" asked Bilbo, his confusion mirroring Magma's own.

"It is the dwarves new year, when the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter, appear in the sky together." Magma's eye browns raised as she began counting down their days of travel in her head...

"This is ill news," said Thorin. One arm crossed over his chest as the other hand rubbed at his lip. Magma recognised this as being his "thinking pose", but part of it always made her stomach give a little flip; seeing that arm flexed across his chest, hinting at the muscle beneath whilst the other drew her attention to his lips...

 _Damn it Oakensheild_.

"Summer is passing, Durins' day will soon be upon us!" He exclaimed, his voice sounding as close to panicked as Thorin gets as he turned to Balin.

"We still have time." he replied, stepping forward, Magma and Bilbo shared a look of confusion.

"Time for what?" asked Bilbo, echoing the thought in Magma's mind.

"To find the entrance." said Balin, with a forceful gesture born of desperate hope, "We have to be standing in exactly the right spot, at _exactly_ the right time. Then, and _only_ then...can the door be opened." he finished, placing his hands on his hips with a nod to Thorin.

Magma felt a little flutter of hope bloom in her chest, like a butterfly coming out of its chrysalis.

Only for a bird to eat it.

"So this is your purpose." spoke Lord Elrond, his voice low with censure as he eyed Thorin.

Thorin straightened abruptly, standing tense, as though it had only just occurred to him that this was probably not a conversation to have in the Elfs' presence.

"To enter the mountain." he finished, his voice raising to anger, something which caused Magma's eyebrows to raise, as she rarely heard Elronds' voice even hint towards anger.

"What of it?" asked Thorin, his voice rough.

"There are some who would not deem it wise." Handing back the map, however reluctantly, Lord Elrond was undoubtedly giving Thorin a scathing look of disapproval, judging by the mutinous arch to the dwarves brow.

"Who do you mean?" questioned Gandalf, his voice softly curious compared to the almost argument that had just taken place between the elf and the dwarf.

How Magma longed to go to bed, she never did care for politics, despite all Lord Elrond had done to teach her. She could settle arguments with logic, but if ears were deaf and eyes were blind, then no amount of logic would help. For example, in her mind, it was clear that the mountain belonged to the dwarves, Thorin specifically, therefore it was none of the elves business what they did with it.

She'd read, however reluctantly, her history books - and beings far more powerful than Smaug had been fought, and defeated, in the past. In her mind, it was the lack of will to act, by _all_ races, that resulted in Smaug being left in control of Erebor.

"You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle Earth." And with that, Elrond swept away, anger radiating from his every pore. If Magma didn't know better, she'd almost say he spat that last sentence.

"And bring the girl." The Elf Lord called over his shoulder.

 _Excuse me? The girl has a name._

Gandalf slowly turned to meet her eyes, her own worry and confusion reflected back at her from his own grey orbs.

As she dragged her reluctant feet after the swirling mass of hair and robes that made up her two father figures, she felt her arm grabbed in a vice like grip.

Sighing, she refused to meet Thorins eyes, for who else would grab her without warning? Who else would have hands so warm as they spread out firmly against her arm? Who else would conflict her with wanting to curl up into his warmth, shout at him for manhandling her, and kiss him silly all at once?

"What is this?" He ground out, shifting his grip to turn he bodily towards him.

"It's called the White Council." She sighed, "They only get together when something big's happening in Middle Earth, they're all kinda a big deal."

"And why would they want you?" his voice softened in recognition of the concern in her tone.

"No idea," she muttered, finally meeting his eye's, "But it can't be good."

Flicking her gaze to the corridor Lord Elrond and Gandalf has disappeared down she leant in towards Thorins ear. Unable to help herself, she took in a small whiff of his scent; man, sweat, and smoke...

"Don't leave without me." She whispered, before scurrying away after her carers.

Balin came up to Thorin's side, the pair watching the girls skip off down the darkening cavern until the last glance of moonlight shone off her hair, and even then Thorin continued to stare after her.

"We will wait?" Balin phrased the question carefully, knowing now, whilst Thorin was still under the spell of having her close, was the only chance of getting the Dwarf king to wait.

After a moment of silence, he finally turned away of the corridor, barely looking at Bilbo whilst ordering him to go and pack.

"Tell everyone; we have no time to waste!" and with a final look over his shoulder, he caught Balin's eye, shaking his head slightly, before storming his way to his rooms to finish packing.

Balin only sighed in disappointment. This wouldn't end well, he would bet his gold on it.

* * *

Magma had met the members of the White Council before, individually they were intimidating. Gathered together...

But even in a place where so many powerful males gathered, she couldn't help but smile when she felt the presence of the Lady Galadriel tickling at the back of her mind. It gave her hope to know that in a world governed by the strength of men, here was a woman whom all respected.

"With or without our help, these dwarves will march on the mountain!" Argued Gandalf.

Stairs, so many Light be damned stairs. The elves were fond of their steps and stairs and towers and spreading their meeting places as far from each other as possible. They'd claim it meant no one could spy on meetings they weren't meant to attend, Magma thought it was to show off their speed and endurance in a very underhanded way.

"They are determined to reclaim their homeland. I do not believe that Thorin Oakensheild feels that he is answerable to anyone." He continued, all whilst Lord Elrond kept a cool façade, content to smoothly make his way along beside the wizard.

"Nor for that matter am I." Gandalf finally exclaimed, half filled with pride, half with confusion as they finally arrived at the doorway to the meeting point. It was here that Elrond finally turned to Gandalf, Magma was quite content to remain ignored in the background.

"It is not me you must answer to." He gestured to the archway way the Lady Galadriel had been standing, appreciating the view of the stars. Gandalf stepped forward, uttering her name in pleased surprised, and she returned the greeting. Magma remained silent as they exchanged pleasantries, instead rubbing at a spot by her ribs where she had developed a stitch.

"Coldes." Magma's head snapped up, to hear herself being addressed by the Lady Galadriel was a shock, as she assumed she was going to be ignored.

"M-my Lady." she stammered out, bowing her head in respect and returning the cautious smile that graced the Lady's lips.

 _There's something in the eyes...what is it?_

"I had no idea that Lord Elrond had sent for you." Gandalf turned to the elf Lord, smiling. A smile which soon dropped when a deep voice slithered its way from the shadows.

"He didn't. I did." Spoke the White wizard. Magma felt herself tense, the once bright, moonlit meeting place now seemed filled with shadows, she'd never liked Saruman.

 _Always so self important._

"You've been busy of late, my friend."

The meeting continued long into the night. Magma barely propped up in her cold, hard, stone chair. All she wanted was to crawl into a cozy bed, was that too much? As the first rays of dawn lightened the sky to a cheery pink, she settled for absorbing the light with a weary sigh - she'd be awake, but she wouldn't feel like she'd had a good nights sleep. Round and round the arguments went - Saruman flaunting his self importance by calling out Gandalf for helping the dwarves, Gandalf trying to explain why, Gandalf being interrupted...

On and on and on and on...

"Radagast? Do not speak to me of Radagast the Brown. He is a foolish fellow." Saruman spat.

"Well, he's odd I'll grant you that, lives a solitary life..."

"It's not that, it's his excessive consumption of _mushrooms_. They've addled his brain, and yellowed his teeth." He sneered in disgust.

 _You're one to talk, when was the last time you left your library?_

"Excuse me?" Came the White Wizards scandalised voice.

Magma felt a foot nudge her own, and she turned from where she'd been watching the sun rise to see the horror stricken faces of Saruman, Gandalf, and Lord Elrond. The Lady or Lorien was unreadable, and Magma didn't trust a face she couldn't read.

"Hm?" she grunted, reaching back to stretch.

"You just said something very rude, Coldes." Came the soft reply of the Elf Lord.

"Oh, did I say that out loud?" Magma refused to feel abashed, he'd made her sit out there all night, he could deal with the consequences.

"Yes, you did. Tell me, what is it exactly, that you think I'm missing?" Came the careful reply.

 _Well, I'll never get a better opportunity, just word it well Magma, word it well..._

"Well, the way I see it, we've got two choices. Cover our ears, turn our backs, and spend the next century pretending Smaug isn't there. Then, when he wakes up, deal with a Dragon that's got the upper hand because he'll have eaten all the lake Men and be back to full energy, looking for more jewels. He'll hit Mirkwood first, yes, people have taken to calling it that, then move his way down. Personally, I think we can all agree that's a terrible plan, even though it's what we've been doing so far."

Magma took this opportunity to pause with a yawn, stretching her arms up until her back cracked.

"Or, we let the Dwarves make their way over there. Their main plan for now is to steal the king's jewel, so they can get the dwarven armies over to take back the mountain. In the event they wake the dragon up...well apparently I'm a dragon hunter now. I've been meaning to ask Gandalf about that. Anyway, either way, you're not winning. If the dwarves fail, all they've done is wake Smaug a little early, and you haven't done anything to plan for that eventuality anyway. If they succeed, well, the dwarves have just gotten back their mountain, their gold, and their power. They've spent all this time being looked down upon, so really, how kind do you think they'll be to the races that _didn't_ help them?" She paused to lock eyes with Saruman, refusing to back down.

"They already hate Thranduil for turning his back, and they aren't afraid to make more enemies. Do you really want to be one of them?"

The Wizard held her gaze for one beat, two...and then continued with his narrow minded argument. Magma sighed and fell back into her chair, half closing her eyes in boredom.

She did notice, however, that Lord Elrond was studying her, as though considering her words.

Then Gandalf decided to throw a sword on the table and well, Magma decided she'd had enough of paying attention for one day.

As the sun continued to rise, she felt her ruins tingle pleasantly, before she felt the presence of Lady Galadriel, like a cool stream, settle in beside her. And so, she heard the story of how the Witch King of Angmar was buried so deep, that it was impossible that his sword could be lying on the table before them.

This, of course, sent Saruman off into another of his lectures about how there was no evidence to support anything they'd said, and he then went straight back to the beginning of their meeting by complaining about Thorin once again.

Magma had had enough.

But before she could go, she felt a strange pulling sensation in her chest...as though something were being taken away...

She gasped, and Lady Galadriel looked her way, and for the first time Magma felt the full weight of her stare.

"Enough." she said, quietly, but with force enough to turn the Wizards head. "There is something else that must be discussed, a secret," she paused, turning to the sun rise, "come to light."

The council waited in silence for the Lady to gather herself.

"May I be forgiven for this," she whispered, before turning to the council once more, "The Witch King had a daughter."

* * *

Mic. Dropped. And we can all guess where this is going can't we? No, no we can't ;)

Thank you guys, sorry for the massive delay, but life happened, which sucks.

Translations in order; (Sorry if they're wrong but damn it's hard to find these)

Azbadu men - My Lady (Khuzdul)

Gajut men - Forgive me (Khuzdul)

Men eleneku menu o bepap opetu ezirak - I desire you more than an endless vein of Mithril (Khuzdul)

Khuzd tada bijebî âysîthi mud oshmâkhî dhi zurkur ughvashâhu! - A Dwarf that chooses to take a wife must guard her as his greatest treasure! (Khuzdul)

Lle anta amin tu? - Do you need help? (Elvish)

Sut an? - How long? (Elvish)

Arwenamin - My Lady (Elvish)

Lle merna salk? - Do you want to dance? (Elvish)


	10. Chapter 10 - If it can't be fixed

We're into double figures guys! Wow...

Disclaimer: Middle-Earth and all its characters belong to Sir Tolkien (With the exception of some of Peter Jackson's additions) I do not own the universe or the story, but the main OC, any future OCs and the altered plot line involving my OC/s are mine.

Also; little bit of a trigger warning I guess...there will be alcohol...there will be tears...there will be a pretty decent impression of me after half a bottle of Vodka...ENJOY!

* * *

If it Can't be Fixed With Wine...

* * *

The sun was just beginning to lighten the dark of the night into the grey of early morning when the dwarves, and their hobbit, began their trek along the side of the steep hills surrounding Rivendell. They were uncharacteristically quiet as they marched; the few days of comfort they'd been afforded at the Elven house had taken its toll, and few were able to shake off their sleep as efficiently as Thorin had. This worried him at first, especially when Fili and Kili had stumbled along leaning up against each other. But he relaxed when he saw that the lighter the sky became, the more awake his men behaved. Even the hobbit had been walking with sure, awake footsteps; though Thorin's brows lowered when he took in their reluctant drag across the soil.

It was no surprise to the Dwarven King that Bilbo had become very fond of the Elves, many of their ways reflected his own, but now was not the time for dawdling. If the halfling couldn't keep up with them...

Thorin sighed, the movement causing his clothes to release a burst of a fresh, flowery fragrance. Not that he'd ever admit, but the feel of his clothing; so soft and clean after so long, was as pleasant as the delicate smell that would occasional drift from them. A result of the Elves soaps no doubt.

He knew that Balin had already explained to his brother why a certain member was absent, but the rest of his sleepy company had yet to notice, and he hoped he'd be far enough away before they began asking questions and making demands.

 _I am the leader of this company, they will simply have to accept my judgement..._ He thought with a wince, lifting his hand to rub at his chest; a steady ache had set in since the meeting with the Elven Lord, and it only appeared to be worsening, not that it was enough to do more than merely be a bother.

"Eh, uh, Thorin? Where's Magma?" Called Bofur from somewhere behind him, and Thorin released a sigh he'd been holding all morning beneath his breath. He turned to face his company, knowing they'd not be happy with what he had to say.

He took his time, wanting to be sure each of them was paying the correct amount of attention. To have, in essence, terminated a contract was something they should all be taking very seriously.

"The Witch will not be joining us." He said, his voice flat with finality, hoping that none would argue.

Fili recovered first, the shock that had covered all of their faces quickly dropping from his, and in the golden sunlight Thorin could see an argumentative frown carving its way through his nephews features. Thorin shifted his weight from one foot to another, bringing his arms up to cross over his chest as he waited for his nephews thoughts.

Thanks to a well timed, and well concealed, signal from Balin, none came. Fili simply thinned his lips and nodded, grasping his brothers shoulder to get the line moving again.

"Balin," Barked Thorin, but a laugh interrupted him.

A high, feminine laugh.

"Oh yes boys, don't you worry about lil' ol' me. I won't be joining _you_ , _you'll_ be joining _me_!" Called Magma, from a boulder on the side of the path, where she'd apparently been making herself quite comfortable for sometime. With a small bottle of wine.

"Magma..." Thorin growled, his voice a low, angry rumble. Not that the girl seemed to notice. Or care.

"Thorin!" she beamed back, throwing her arms wide, her voice light and excitable, as though she were truly pleased to see him.

First throwing down her bag, Magma then leapt off of her perch, standing before her companions. If they were pleased to see her, they did not show it. Doubtless they could sense something had not gone quite according to plan.

They were right.

"You," Magma exclaimed, attempting to point a finger at Thorin whilst also trying to stand without wobbling, "You left without me!"

"Yes," Thorin ground out, "One usually does that when they wish to rid themselves of someone."

He almost regretted that.

When the drunk girl wobbled to stand straighter than she already was, and he could see tears forming in her eyes, which she rapidly blinked away.

"I see, so, Sire, is my contract terminated?"

"Of course it is." He growled, and was somewhat satisfied when she nodded her head, and stooped to pick up her bag.

"Wonderful. I'll see you boys around." And then proceeded to walk away from Rivendell. The wrong direction for someone not of his company to be taking.

"Where do you think your going?" he called, barely keeping a leash on his temper, though in the back of his mind he was grateful that his company had the sense to stay quiet.

"Hm, Oh, me?" she said, looking around with exaggerated movements. He was not entirely sure if it was the wine or not.

"Yes." he spat.

"Well Sir, I thought I'd pay a visit to Lake-Town." Magma sing-songed at him.

 _It's the wine, it's the wine..._ Thorin repeated in his mind, though even his inner voice trembled with strain.

"Oh dear..." he heard behind him, possibly from Balin, but he didn't care.

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"Well sir, I don't really think you get a say in what I do, or where I go." Magma spat the words at him, making sure to enunciate carefully past her drunken slur.

Thorin felt his fists clench.

"And do you know what?" she suddenly cried out, voice high and more stressed than he'd ever heard it.

"I don't need anyone's permission to do _anything_! I am _not_ some...some mad dog to be kept on a leash! I'm not...not some _weapon_ to be used and...and thrown away!" she shouted, seemingly unaware of the tears that streamed down her face as she hiccuped through her speech, "And I refuse, I _refuse_ to...to care! About what you, or _anyone_ else says about me!" Wine bottle, though now Thorin wondered if it wasn't something stronger, still clenched tightly in one fist, Magma had begun pulling at her hair with the other as she walked in circles on the path in front of them.

Thorin's arms were down by his sides, and his eyes were wide, and he'd have bet money that there were some open mouths behind him.

They had never seen their Magma like this; fun, happy, sad, even angry! But over emotional drunk?

Thorin rubbed at the spot on his chest where the pain had taken a sudden spike in intensity.

Was this all because he'd left her behind?

* * *

"...had a daughter." It seemed that even the breeze was afraid to stir, so dire was the Lady Galadriel's claim.

"Preposterous!" Exclaimed Saruman, "The wraiths could not bare children!"

Though the statement was true, as far as Magma knew, she decided then and there; If Saruman demanded "evidence to support this claim", she'd strangle him with his own beard.

"It is true, the wraiths were unable to conceive children, so completely were they taken over by the Ring. But a child he had all the same, though not by any normal or...natural means."

Before the White Wizard could open his mouth again, Lord Elrond intervened.

"How can this be?"

The Lady turned her sad, haunted eyes on everyone present, before she began walking around the table. Her soothing voice seemed to echo on its own, and Magma could fancy that what she envisioned in her mind's eye was how events really happened.

"During the war, our enemy charged the Witch King with a dark task; create a being so powerful, none could stand against it, but that this being be loyal, absolutely, to the One Ring.

And so, The Witch King brought forth all the magic users he knew of, and hunted for those he did not, to dabble in the same black magics that forged the rings. At last, he found a young witch. Her name was Adelia. Born to Man, she kept herself well hidden out of fear she'd be burnt for her skills. But she was the only one strong enough to withstand being repeatedly immersed in the darkness."

Magma shivered as her mind conjured up the image of a young woman, with blonde hair and innocent blue eyes, only for her to be swallowed by shadows...the very thought of being swallowed by dark magic was a worst nightmare for someone who worked solely in the light.

"For three days and three nights, Adelia and the Witch King bathed in each other's magic, combining them with a spell designed to create the most powerful being they could dream of to destroy their enemies. At the end, when the dust had settled, and they had exhausted their abilities..."

The three waited, breath held as they watched Lady Galadriel, totally captured by her story.

"...there was nothing."

For once, Magma felt a kinship with Saruman, as the confused frown on his brow mirrored her own.

"In his anger, the Witch King destroyed the spell, and returned to his master a failure. Adelia, for her power, was sent to the ranks of other magic users kept by the Witch King, and was promptly forgotten. But Adelia didn't forget, and when her stomach started to swell, and she felt the first kick of a child in her belly, she knew. The spell was designed to create life, but life is not made so quickly. It needs to be nurtured, grown. Only a woman can create a life inside of her body; and that is where the magic went."

"A child of pure magic?" spat Saruman, "It would be an abomination!"

"But it was not. For even as the babe grew in her womb, Adelia knew she loved the child with all her heart. She'd fallen in love with a young guard, and together they agreed to run away together, knowing that once the child was born, the Witch King would know of its existence.

They ran, to the only sanctuary from the war they could reach in time for the birth, the only place they trusted not to turn them away."

She paused, and looked Saruman in the eye, an almost defiant glint lingering in their depths.

"They came to Lorien."

"And you did not think to inform me before now." Said the wizard, his voice dangerously light.

"I had seen many outcomes, and the best was the path I chose. You know this is the way of things." There was a brief stare off, wherein Magma had to reign in the urge to beg the Lady to keep going with the story, but she didn't need to.

"On the night they arrived, Adelia birthed a beautiful baby girl, no different than other baby, no spark of magic nestled within that small child. But still, Adelia begged me to send them away. She'd read many things in her training, some about what my mirror could do...She begged me to send them to another world, where they may raise their child in peace, safe from Sauron. I could see her heart was pure, and agreed. I hid them as best I could, in a different time of a different world...I prayed they'd never be found."

She stopped in the same place she started, opposite Magma and next to Gandalf, though this time she stared at her hands in worry. Magma frowned at this display of anxiety from the most powerful female she knew.

"But...this was all over three-thousand years ago? Round about that anyway? And they were all of Man so they'd be dead now, wouldn't they?" she asked.

"Yes child, they would be. But the world I sent them to has a different movement of time to ours. Three-thousand years here...was ten there. There are times that I selfishly comfort myself with the knowledge that they had those peaceful years together." The pulling in Magma's heart was replaced, but for a moment, with a beat of shock and pain.

"Had?" she whispered, "What happened?"

"I cannot say for sure. All I know is, somehow, they were found. Adelia and her lover; Peter, were murdered by Orcs whilst they kidnapped the child."

 _She's not looking at me, she's looking past me...over my shoulder...why wont she look at me?_

One of Magma's hands curled into a tight fist where it rested on her thigh, the other gripped so hard at the stone armrest of her chair that she imagined she could feel the rock grinding away beneath her fingers.

"The girl was...tortured. They tried to force the magic out of her, tried to make-up the end of the ritual that had been destroyed from old notes. It worked. They awoke a powerful magic inside her, and she somehow managed to pull herself back into this world to escape them."

Magma's breathing became laboured, she could feel a tingling run up and down her arms with each passing moment, and a heavy weight settled on her shoulders; causing them to slump forward in exhaustion. She reached a hand up and rubbed furiously at the pulling sensation in her chest as her head swam. Why was she panicking?

"What happened to her? The child..." She croaked.

"A wandering wizard found her," answered Gandalf gently, "on his way to the Shire, a great light flashed through the forest, and at the epicentre he found a small girl. Dirty and alone, and full of magic that was wholly untrained. He wrapped her in blankets, fed her, cleaned and clothed her. He took her in as his own..." his eyes softened as he talked, no doubt lost in his memories as he reached out and gently grasped Magma's arm, his thumb rubbing back and forth to comfort the panicking woman.

"You mean..." she breathed, her voice wobbling as she swung her head round to take in the stares of her mentors, they ranged from loving, pitiful, and lastly a dangerous curiosity as Saruman stroked his chin.

"No!" she exclaimed, standing, "No, I was captured yes, tortured. The Monster...but they put the magic _in_ me! They pushed it there! I didn't have it..."

"But you did sweet one," murmured Galadriel, "So woven into your very being that I couldn't sense it, you are magic given form. I'm so sorry, child, but you were created in darkness."

"But I'm not dark! I'm not!" She cried out in desperation, "Look at me, everything I do is seeped in light, I can't _live_ without it!"

"I know, a being created for the dark that needs the light?" answered Galadriel softly, "I doubt that was intended. Either way Coldes, you are dangerous. Your power could level cities with a thought. And you need the dark more than you realise, for how can the light shine without it? I worry for you child," the Lady made her way over to Magma's shivering form, laying a gentle hand upon a shoulder and ducking her head to meet her eyes, "I feel the darkness creeping closer to you, even if you have not yet realised it. Be careful and be safe. We who care for you will keep watch over you as we always have."

 _Some more than overs_ , whispered a melodic voice inside Magma's head, _be careful who you put your faith in_.

"I fail to see how this is wise." hissed the White Wizard, and all heads snapped to him.

"What do you mean, my friend?" Asked Gandalf, his cheerfulness covering his fear and his annoyance.

"You have allowed a being that is, essentially, Sauron's attack dog, to wander freely through Middle-Earth all these years. I, for one, do not feel confident that she will not revert to her base instincts and do what she was created for!" Saruman's voice rose with every word, his grip tightening on his staff till the whites of his knuckles could be seen through every thin finger.

"I am not a mindless animal!" screeched Magma.

The Wizard turned, his expression unreadable.

"What would you suggest? She has committed no crimes, she is just a child." Came the neutral voice of Lord Elrond, his features perfectly schooled to hide his emotions. The Wizard said nothing as he studied Magma, moving his staff against the ground lightly, twisting it between his fingers.

"These stories and fancies you brought before us today Gandalf are just that, but this girl is a very real threat, if what you say is true. She could even grow to be more of a threat than _he_ was...perhaps it would be best...to lock her away."

This was met with strong opposition. Gandalf shot up from his chair in fear and fury, Magma darting behind him to bury her face in his grey robes as he called out that he would not allow it. His voice mixed in with the protest from Lord Elrond, as he too broke composure to declare that it was hardly a suitable action, and Saruman found he could not look at the Lady of Lorien; as her disapproving glare was more powerful than the spoken protests put together.

However, before any decision could be made, Lindir had made his way up the steps to call out a situation that made Magma's heart sink and her blood boil in fury;

The dwarves had gone.

* * *

It was as she rushed to pack that the bottle of "wine" came to be in her possession. Elladan and Elrohir briefly came into her room, having been told by their father that their beloved Coldes would not be in the most sociable of moods, and so brought a draught of their own personal brew. It tasted sweet, and was incredibly strong, with a burn that punched you right in the chest; and they knew that that was something she'd be needing for now.

Seating themselves in areas of her room that were most definitely _not_ made for sitting, the brothers entertained themselves by raising their eyebrows at one another every time Magma was unnecessarily forceful with an article of clothing as she packed the essentials into her small bag. Muttering beneath her breath at the absurdity of dwarves, and how she wouldn't be able to bring any food with her now, she paused to catch her breath. Pushing her long hair out of her face, she couldn't bring herself to care about the increasing number of tangles that caught on her fingers, or the frizz she could see out of her peripheral vision.

"Coldes." called Elladan quietly, not shifting from his perch on the window ledge; some 10 feet in the air, where he judged himself to be safe from his friend's wrath, so long as she didn't throw anything.

"What?" she snapped.

A soft 'thump' noise from the bed drew her attention, where she found a bag of lembas bread, dried fruits, and even cured meats. A second 'thump' to the side, and she found a dark green bottle, the darker liquid within sloshing up the sides before she picked it up. Recognising it as the type of bottle the twins used for their special brew, she sent a wry smirk in both their directions, having to turn her head to aim it at Elrohir where he perched on her vanity table.

"We don't know, and we don't need to, _Mellonin_." he said.

"Just know we shall beat those dwarves, or anyone else, with a stick if they upset you." finished Elladan, finally dropping from his seat to place his hand on Magma's shoulder.

"Hmph," she snorted, her usual fire in her eyes once more, "As though I'd ever need you two to finish my fights for me."

The pair made quite the show of mulling this over, stroking their chins and looking to the sky with slight nods. Magma couldn't help a slight smile at their theatrics.

"In which case," Elladan continued, "We would simply go and find the very best stick there is...

"...And let _you_ beat them with it." Finished Elrohir, throwing a cheeky smile her way. Magma's smile lasted only a moment before she felt another strong pull in her chest, she turned to hide her grimace. With a sigh and a heavy nod, she continued to pack, though the twins were pleased to note there was significantly less fury to her movements this time.

Exchanging hugs, they made a brief, but familiar, quip about what she'd done with their boots, before Magma ran out the door.

Knowing her company, though she was now beginning to have her doubts about that, she guessed they'd have taken the most obviously direct route, as it was unlikely they'd have stopped to ask for short cuts from the local Elves.

In Rivendell, though, ways that looked longer were most often shorter, and a quick climb over and through some rock faces put her well ahead of her wayward dwarves.

Taking a moment to take in the view before her, and soak up her fill of the early morning rays, something she'd need after her sleepless night, she took her time lowering herself to the ground.

Her chosen perch was, at least, dry; though the grey dust from the rocks was sure to gather on her clothes, and so she was careful not to get any on her hands as she pulled out a small amount of lembas bread and dried fruit for a makeshift breakfast. Having passed an apple tree on her way through, she'd also taken the time to stuff as many of the fruits as she could into her bag; several kinds, including cooking apples, now took over what available space she had. She demolished one quickly, but ate the other slower, attempting to clear her mind of her worries and stresses; a trick Elrond had been trying to teach her for many years. She barely tasted the tartness of the fruit on her tongue as she stared out over the trees and mountains without really seeing them.

Once the apple was finished, however, it became harder for her to hold onto that peaceful place between waking and sleeping, and bits and pieces of the night's events began to flash before her eyes and ring in her ears.

At last, she allowed herself the torture of thought. She pulled out the bottle, a familiar concoction swimming inside, the twin's own blend of wine and spirits; guaranteed to get anyone lesser than an elf drunk within a swig.

She opened the bottle, and immediately the smell of strawberries, elder flower, and grapes assaulted her senses. Taking a mouthful, she took a moment to enjoy the fresh, fruity flavours as they danced on her tongue, before allowing the liquid to slide down her throat; where it exploded in her chest and stomach with a heat that made her choke and comforted her at the same time.

And so she sat on her boulder, waiting for the dwarves, and drank whenever a bad thought took over; which was often.

 _I'm an unnatural monster_ , swig.

 _Mad dog,_ swig.

 _I could attack and kill those I love at any moment,_ swig.

 _I could take over the whole of Middle-Earth_ , that one deserved two swigs she decided.

She'd gone through half the bottle by the time she heard the marching and grumbling she'd come to associate with dwarves. And that was when they were trying to be quiet. She shifted in place, her bum had long ago become numb on the hard stone, but stopped when she heard Bofur question why she wasn't with them.

 _Didn't even want to tell your men you'd abandoned me? Sneaky sneaky Oakenshield,_ she thought to herself, head wobbling from side to side. As they began to explain, she stared at her hand, wiggling each numb finger and trying not to giggle as they moved.

 _Yep_ , she thought with a snort, _I'm absolutely pickled._

"The Witch will not be joining us." Came a voice that rumbled like thunder, Magma narrowed her eyes at the sound, then a grin spread across her face as she started to laugh.

"Oh yes boys, don't you worry about lil' ol' me. I won't be joining _you_ , _you'll_ be joining _me_!" Called Magma, thoroughly enjoying the way they all jumped, spinning like tops to find her.

"Magma..." Thorin growled, his voice a low, angry rumble. Not that she cared, what did he have to be angry about?

"Thorin!" she beamed back, intending to wave, she found her arms weighed a lot less than she thought, and her arms flung out to either side as she tried to keep her balance on the rock.

 _If it's this hard to sit, standing will be fun!_

Keeping a tight grip on he bottle, for she intended to finish it after the night she'd had, she first threw down her bag, then leapt off of her perch, standing before her supposed companions. If they were pleased to see her, they did not show it. For now, she didn't care, the pulling in her chest had stopped but had been replaced with a lump the size of her fist as she struggled to keep her emotions in check.

"You," Magma exclaimed, attempting to point a finger at Thorin, which was hard when there were two of him, "You left without me!"

"Yes," Thorin ground out, "One usually does that when they wish to rid themselves of someone."

Ouch.

She was going to make sure he regretted that.

She wobbled slightly, as she tried to stand straighter and only ended up leaning backwards, she blinked her eyes hard to get rid the tears she felt gathering there.

"I see, so, Sire, is my contract terminated?" She questioned, struggling to keep her voice light, as though she didn't care, as though it didn't _matter_ that she was being left behind. Abandoned, by the only people who didn't think she was a monster.

"Of course it is." He growled, and Magma couldn't help but wince at the sharp spike to her chest at his tone.

"Wonderful. I'll see you boys around." She garbled, and then decided to carry on the way she was going anyway. She knew someone in Lake-Town, nice girl, might as well visit her since she was out of her cottage and her woods in the first time in nearly a year.

Maybe that would be what Saruman decided on, trap her in her woods. She took a swig of her bottle at that thought, it wouldn't be too bad, she supposed. Better than a dungeon. Or dog cage.

 _Mad dog, Mad dog, Mad dog..._

"Where do you think your going?" demanded Thorin. Magma spun back around to face the group, stumbling only a little, she widened her eyes at both Thorin's question and the multitude of Dwarves behind him.

"Hm, Oh, me?" she said, bending at the waist slightly as she looked from right to left with clumsy, exaggerated movements, one finger pointed to her chest.

"Yes." he spat.

"Well Sir, I thought I'd pay a visit to Lake-Town." Magma sing-songed at him, thoroughly enjoying watching his jaw muscles tic as he clenched them, feeling strangely accomplished at the idea that she'd pissed someone off.

"Oh dear..." she heard, and rolled her eyes about to see two Balins rubbing at their chins nervously as they eyed the two Thorins.

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"Well sir, I don't really think you get a say in what I do, or where I go." Magma spat the words at him, making sure to enunciate carefully past her drunken slur. All she could think of was a cage.

Thorin felt his fists clench.

"And do you know what?" she suddenly cried out, voice high, unable to stop the words as they poured out, the pain in her chest suddenly too much to bear as she flicked between rubbing her chest and pulling at her head, which felt heavy and over burdened.

"I don't need anyone's permission to do _anything_! I am _not_ some...some mad dog to be kept on a leash! I'm not...not some _weapon_ to be used and...and thrown away!" she shouted, tasting the salt of her tears as they spilt over her lips, combining with the taste of the fruity drink and feeling like pure misery, "And I refuse, I _refuse_ to...to care! About what you, or _anyone_ else says about me!" Wine bottle still clenched tightly in one fist, Magma had begun pulling at her hair with the other as she walked in circles on the path in front of them. She needed the drink, didn't she? It made the hurt go away, for even just a moment, as it scorched a path from her chest to her belly, blazing like a fire that burnt away her emotions.

She took another swig as she continued to hiccup through her tears, then fell to her knees. The entire company, including Thorin, suddenly rushed towards her. Bilbo, showing some uncharacteristic strength, pushed and shoved his way to Magma's side, where he began gently stroking her loose curls.

Magma suddenly latched onto his wrist, her voice wobbling from her sobbing, but what she said stopped everyone cold.

"You won't let them...you won't let them put me in a cage, will you Bilbo? Please, please don't let them put me in the dark. They want to chain me. Not chains," she began wailing in fear as images swept through her mind, "Not chains. They hurt. They hurt. That's when they bring out the knives, and the Monster comes. They want to put me in the dark Bilbo. Why? I didn't do, I didn't do anything. Why would you leave me there?" she turned to Thorin, who's eyes widened and chest ached to see her kneeling there in the dirt, looking so broken...

* * *

"I asked you to wait. Why would you leave me?" Her voice broke as she became quieter, dropping the bottle in favour of curling in on herself as Bilbo and Ori tried in vain to comfort her. At last, the wine seemed to have taken its toll, leaving an unconscious Magma propped between the hobbit and the Dwarf. Both of whom glared at their leader.

Closing his eyes in shame, Thorin bent to pick up the unconscious girl; only to find himself waylaid by the most unlikely of sources.

"I don't think so lad." Came Balin's soft voice as he rested a hand lightly on Thorin's forearm. Thorin frowned in confusion and annoyance.

"We can hardly leave her here." he snapped.

"Aye, it looks as though she'll be coming with us after all. But I do not think it would be wise for her to wake up in your arms, this time." Balin remarked, alluding to the previous times that Thorin had taken it upon himself to carry their witch. Thorin's lips thinned, but he nodded sharply.

"Dori." he snapped, waiting only a moment to ensure Magma was cradled comfortably in Dori's arms, and Ori had taken on the burden of her bag before moving on.

The journey continued to be silent, despite all the company being fully awake now, as the screams and cries of their only female companion echoed through their minds.

They all worried over their meaning but none understood better than Ori and Bilbo, who exchanged several concerned looks throughout the rest of the morning, taking any opportunity to communicate silently through looks or gestures.

These motions did not go unnoticed by the company, but Thorin elected to wait until they stopped for lunch to confront the pair.

They stopped on an outcrop of the mountain that had a thin layer of soft moss and grass, where Dori lay Magma down with her head propped upon her bag. Ori and Bilbo immediately placed themselves on either side, the former scribbling into his pad whilst that latter resumed his self appointed task of brushing through her curls with his fingers in a soothing manner. The whole company watched them with concern, but couldn't find it in them to admonish Bilbo for his actions. The pair, along with Bofur, attempted to wake her for the midday meal, but no amount of calling, shaking, or water poured over her hands seemed to rouse her, and they decided to let her be.

After everyone had eaten their small meal of bread, dried meats, and fresh fruits taken from the Elven stores, Thorin's patience had run out.

"Would you care to explain Magma's behaviour?" he asked neutrally, directing the question towards his pipe. The camp became silent once again, gazes darting between Thorin and the pair in question, the only sound was the scratching of wood on Thorin's pipe as he cleaned it. Despite this, Bilbo's hands never stilled in their gentle caress of Magma's hair, as he and Ori had both known the question was coming, and were unsure how to deal with it. Ori's pen slipped across his page with his nervousness, and so he chose to put it away, gazing at his still hands whilst the weight of his company's stares pressed against him.

"Well?" huffed Dwalin.

"She was drunk?" squeaked Ori.

"I know that," Thorin stated, his voice low, "I mean what she said whilst she was drunk. You know something. Tell me." He finally lifted his eyes, and Bilbo flinched at the barely contained anger swirling in their depths. However, he was, on occasion, his mothers son, and he felt a sudden surge of Tookishness sweep through him. Magma was like a sister to him, and he was not about to allow Thorin to bully them into telling her secrets.

"No." he murmured, then turned his head to continue stroking at her hair.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Ori shaking like a leaf as he faced the stares of not only his brothers, but his _king_ , and for a moment Bilbo feared he'd cave and give away the secret Magma had trusted him with.

Suddenly snapping to attention, Ori straightened his spine, huffed out a breath and said, loud and clear, that he "couldn't say, your majesty".

"Ori!" Dori admonished, scandalised. Nori remained silent in the face of his younger brother's unusual show of disobedience, but did turn his head slightly to eye Magma as she lay on the ground.

Her breathing had previously been even, but with each inhale was becoming ragged, and sweat was beading on her forehead. He could see her eyes darting about beneath the lids, and he slowly put away the twig he'd been toying with to pull out a small knife.

He liked the lass well enough; it was about time Ori made some friends, but it was no secret she could be dangerous when she needed to be. He didn't hold that against her, most everyone gathered there was dangerous in some way or another, but it wouldn't weigh down his conscience too much if he had to slip a knife between her ribs: if it was her or Ori, he'd be saving Ori, and right now, Ori was too close.

"Ori..." he whispered, but it was too late.

As the young Dwarrow had begun explaining that he'd promised not to tell until she was ready, and really he didn't know too much, Magma began to scream.

And they were surrounded by light.

* * *

Ok I feel like that was really long, but also super short? I dunno, not my best but I hope you guys enjoyed learning Magma's origins!

Just a point or two - 1. I have no idea if Galadriels Mirror can actually do that, but her mirror always reminded me of the portals in The Magicians Nephew so I went with it 2. sticking to the random Narnia type thing, I also decided that time moving differently wouldn't be too bad (remember, the Pevensies went away for a year and several hundred years had gone by the next time the went to Narnia?) 3. time lines in this may be a little muddled but I did the best I could with what I could find 4. Never drink to solve your problems kids! It just doesn't work *shakes head sadly*

Until next time!


	11. Not Abandoned!

Explanation time!

Ok just to put this out there, this is in no way abandoned! I know it's been over a year, but a lot has been going on with regards to some pretty serious health problems (my own and that of a close family member). As a result, I've had no time and no inspiration to write.

But I promise new chapters will be coming in the new year. Thank you so much to everyone who has followed and favourited this story, and a special thank you to everyone who left comments.

Much love, Nerdy x


End file.
